


Ranunculus Repents

by kiwidesune



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aged-up Frisk, Blind Frisk, Canon-Typical Violence, Misgendering, Nonbinary Character, Slow Burn, Spoilers, in progress, pacifist run
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9680150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwidesune/pseuds/kiwidesune
Summary: Frisk stays with Toriel until they're grown, befriending a strange voice on the other side of the door that leads to freedom. When they finally leave Home, they discover that every reset causes a yellow flower to bloom on their body. Aided by their best friend Napstablook and their (eventually) boyfriend Sans, Frisk struggles to understand the nature of their curse and seeks to find a way to free the Underground. Will they find the answers they seek in time? Or will the Ranunculus Curse claim more than just their sight?





	1. Knock Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans POV

It was a fun time, telling knock-knock jokes and bad puns to the lady behind the door. It had been a while since the lady’s strange request to protect any human who walked through the door, and she was showing up less and less.  
If he was being honest with himself, it was a little discouraging.  
But one day, he knocks, expecting silence - it was so often silence, these days - and an unfamiliar voice comes through, soft and hesitant.  
“Hello…?”  
Sans doesn’t miss a beat.  
“Knock-knock!”  
A long silence, then, “Who is there?”  
“Boo.”  
“Boo who?”  
“Aw, don’t cry. The joke’s not that bad.” 

Her laughter seems to make the woods a little brighter.  
Soon, it is a daily thing. Sometimes they would joke for hours, and sometimes the voice would ask questions. How big is the Underground? Was it cold everywhere? How did you get weather underground?  
Some of the questions are… interesting. Questions about how magic worked. What monsters were made of. If they aged, if they bled, what their food was made of. How they healed. Other questions just make his heart hurt in his chest. Was it true nobody could leave the Underground? Did he have any friends? What were they like? Could he describe them?  
Sans does his best to answer her questions, to satisfy her curiosity. At the same time, he worries. She sounds so lonely, so wistful. It’s hard to comfort someone who is only a voice, who won’t admit any hurt. The Ruins are so very small.

__ 

One day, Sans found a piece of pie and a picture in a little basket, set just outside the door. The pie was butterscotch-cinnamon, and while the crust was a little burned and there was definitely too much cinnamon, he ate every last crumb. The picture was a decent drawing of a kid - maybe in her early teens? It was hard to tell - a tall goat lady (THE QUEEN???), a ghost labelled “Blooky” (NAPSTABLOOK??) a little frowning flower, and a very pointed blank space. There were crayons, and strict instructions to draw himself in.  
His drawing wasn’t great, a skele-stick figure in a blue hoodie, but he left it by the door all the same, and placed a cinnamon bunny on the plate where the pie had been.

____

“Hey. Napstablook. You home?”  
There’s a long pause before the door swings open.  
“Oh, uh...hello? Um. Welcome to my home, I guess…” the ghost seems unbalanced by Sans’ arrival, but ushers him in all the same.  
“Yo, Blooky, I was actually hoping to talk to you a little about something.” Sans jams his hands more deeply in his pockets. “About the Ruins.”  
Napstablook looks panicked.  
“Oh! Uhhhhh...how did you know..? I mean, I like to go there sometimes to be alone. I like to lay on a pile of leaves and feel like garbage. And...stuff? Uhhhh….”  
Sans shakes his head.  
“Tell me about the kid, Blooky.”  
The spectre looks even more uncomfortable.  
“I, uhhhhh, don’t know...don’t know what you’re talking about….uhhh…”  
“Relax, Napstablook,” Sans holds up his hands reassuringly, “I already know about it. I’m friends with her too. I just saw you in a picture she gave me and was hoping you could tell me a little more about her. What she’s like, you know?”  
Napstablook perks up.  
“Oh! I, uhhhh, didn’t know they were allowed to leave the Ruins already. Did I miss their birthday? Oh nooooooo…..” he begins to cry. “I thought I had time….I’m the worst….” He drifts over to a turntable in the corner. “I...was making a mix cd for them…”  
Sans shakes his head.  
“Relax, buddy. You didn’t miss anything. We’re...penpals, sorta. The Queen is totally cool with it too, no need to bring it up. I just wanted to know more about the kid. All I’ve got are her favorite jokes, you know?”  
Napstablook nods, tears slowing.  
“Oh...I see….I thought I missed it. Humans grow so fast…”  
Sans’ hands clench inside his pockets. A human. He knew it.  
“Yeah, buddy. But you didn’t miss anything. You’re a real good pal to the kid. She told me about it and everything. Drew me a picture.”  
Napstablook brightens considerably, a faint blue blush on his face.  
“They….they did?”  
Sans nods.  
“The human is my friend….the human LIKES me….” he drifts a little higher, humming happily. Sans just watches him. After a few moments, Napstablook calms down and drifts to a more normal height. “Do you...want something to eat? I have ghost burgers…”  
Sans shakes his head.  
“S’cool, I’m not hungry. Thanks though.” He looks around, feigning interest. “How old is the human anyway, Blook? How long we got until she leaves the Ruins?”  
Napstablook shrugs, a weird gesture for someone with no arms.  
“Uhhhh….Toriel just always says when they’re older. When they’re grown. But I think….” his expression turns sad, “I dunno when that is. Maybe....never? Frisk seems kinda...lonely. Sometimes we lie down on the leaves and feel like garbage together….they’re so nice to me….do you...do you maybe wanna lie down for a bit and feel like garbage? It’s uh...a thing I do a lot….”  
Sans nods.  
“Sure buddy.” 

Lying on the cold wooden floor, everything drifting away to the beat of Napstablook’s favorite mix, it was hard to relax, to avoid thinking of her. A human. Not only was there a human in the ruins, but the Queen was raising it as her own. It didn’t bode well, Sans reflects. Not for the Underground, not for the Queen, and certainly not for… Frisk. Napstablook had called her Frisk. The little picture simply had her picture labelled “Me,” which had been less than helpful. The King was still on the lookout for human souls to destroy the Barrier. Everyone was. If he knew the Queen was hiding a child...well. Sans wasn’t about to tell anyone. Seems too much like work. 

____ 

 

“BROTHER! YOU LAZYBONES, WHERE ARE YOU? WHY AREN’T YOU AT YOUR POST?” Papyrus marches stiffly into the clearing, spotting Sans slouched by the door immediately.  
“Chill bro, it’s all good. I put a dummy there to cover for me.”  
“THAT IS NOT ALL GOOD AT ALL! THAT IS THE OPPOSITE OF GOOD! WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES BY?”  
“Uhh...pretty sure that’s not going to happen.”  
“BUT IT *COULD* HAPPEN! AND YOUR TRAPS! THEY HAVE NOT BEEN RECALIBRATED IN DAYS! WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?”  
“Oh, you know. This and that.”  
“BROTHER! THAT IS INSUFFICIENT!” Papyrus huffs indignantly. “I WILL COVER FOR YOU TODAY, BECAUSE I AM VERY GREAT AND GENEROUS, BUT YOU NEED TO BE AT YOUR SENTRY STATION TOMORROW!”  
“Sure thing, Paps.”  
Papyrus marches away, and a tiny voice comes through the door.  
“Who was that?”  
Sans sighs.  
“M’brother. Papyrus. He’s a good dude. Just...intense sometimes.”  
“Is he...hunting humans?”  
“Sorta. He’s never seen one before, and the King wants humans to help break the Barrier. So we can all go home, you know? So he patrols the woods.”  
“Do you...hunt humans too?”  
“Nah. Too lazy.”  
“Oh. That’s good. Um. For any humans, I mean.”  
Sans chuckles.  
“Relax, kid. You’re...you’re safe with me.” The words rise from his mouth unbidden.  
There’s a silence for a while, then,  
“Thanks, Sans. You’re a good friend.”  
Their words make his chest tight, an unfamiliar feeling.  
“Uhhhh, you too, kid.”


	2. The Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk POV

Sometimes, they stand in front of the big purple door that leads to the Underground, where they faced off against their Mom so long ago… it fills them with a strange sort of wistfulness. There’s so much, beyond that door.  
An abrupt, sharp knock interrupts their reverie.  
“Hello?” they say uncertainly.  
“Knock knock,” comes an unfamiliar voice.  
“....Who is there?”  
“Boo,” the voice replies, confident and cheerful.  
“Boo who?” they ask curiously.  
“Aw, don’t cry,” the voice quips, “The joke’s not that bad!” 

It was the funniest thing Frisk had ever heard, and soon, they're sneaking down to the big door on the regular, hoping the voice will be there.

\------  
“Hey Mom?”  
The goat woman looks up from her book, slowing her rocking in the chair by the fire. She’s beautiful and more than a little intimidating, all pale fur and piercing red eyes behind golden spectacles.  
“Yes, my child?”  
“Could you...Teach me how to bake pies? Like you do?”  
Their adoptive mother's face lights up, and she envelops Frisk’s hands in her two large, soft paws affectionately.  
“Of course! I would be delighted to teach you all that I know. I will make the fire for you until you are strong enough to cut wood and make your own fire,” she muses aloud, “and I can show you where in the Ruins you can find the best snails…” Upon seeing Frisk pull a face, she laughs. “Once you have mastered snail pie we will try the butterscotch and cinnamon, my child. Snails are much easier to come by.”  
Frisk nods. Knowing that she might one day bake a pie to give her friend...it fills her with 

determination.

 

\-------

Toriel hastily puts out the fire, waving her apron to dispel the smoke. Frisk mimics her, flapping their matching apron while coughing weakly.  
“Go to the living room,” her mother says firmly. “I will bring you some water.” Frisk obeys, moving into the living room where the air is more clear. They continue to cough, eyes stinging. Tears prick up in the corners, but from shame or the harsh air they cannot tell.  
Toriel bustles out of the kitchen with a tall glass of water in one hand, and the salvaged pie in the other.  
Frisk gulps greedily at the water as Toriel rubs their back soothingly.  
“There there,” she murmurs, “the pie isn't even badly burned. That went quite well, all things considered! We can cut off the char and add it to the compost. I'm sure the flowers will love it.”  
Frisk nods, slightly mollified. Toriel had let them try butterscotch early, and it was so much more complicated than snails! But...now they have something to give to their friend beyond the door. They lie to their mother, a guilty moment, claiming they want an extra slice to eat in their room, then wait until Toriel falls asleep. Her snore is like rocks falling, so it’s easy to tell when she’s drifted off. The long treck to the door is nerve-wracking - Frisk had never broken the rules before, not really. They’re so certain they will be caught, but they get all the way to the door, creak it open without peeking, and set the pie outside with a picture they made. 

They thought for sure they would get in trouble...but nobody came.

\------

Frisk clutches the picture in their hands. Opening the door was definitely Not Allowed, but… he ate the whole slice of pie! And left a snack for them too! And...nothing bad happened. They got a present from a friend! And a picture!  
Frisk studies the drawing intently, memorizing every scant detail. A skeleton. That explained the bone puns…  
“My child? Where are you?” their mother’s voice rang out from upstairs, heavy with concern. Toriel must already be looking for them. They’d best hurry.  
“Coming, Mom!!” Frisk tucks the picture into their pocket, scarfs down the unfamiliar baked treat, and runs Home. 

___ 

At first, their room seemed strange and unfamiliar. The shoes in the basket mostly didn’t fit, and it was unsettling how there was a thin layer of dust over all the toys and decorations, as though someone lived there long ago, but no longer. When they asked Mom about it, the goat woman got a sad, faraway look in her eyes and refused to discuss it. Over time though, the room began to feel personal, like home. Their drawings were on the walls, and their tutoring books littered the floor. The shoes they couldn’t use disappeared, and new clothes slowly filled the little wardrobe. Carefully, Frisk tucks the drawing with Sans under their pillow, where it will be safe. Mom got really upset the one time they tried to leave… it’s probably for the best that Toriel not find out how much time Frisk is spending by the door. At least not yet. 

___

“Hey Mom?”  
“Yes, My child?”  
“Is it true all the monsters are trapped Underground?”  
“...Yes.”  
“Is it true the King needs humans to help leave the Underground?”  
It wasn’t difficult to see where Frisk was going with this.  
“My child, I cannot lie to you. The King does want humans to help break the barrier. But I cannot allow you to go. He would harm you, and that is unacceptable. Our freedom is not worth your life. Just...stay here. Be good, and stay here with me.”  
Frisk bites their lip.  
“But...I want to see the Underground. I want to make friends.”  
“Napstablook is your friend, is he not?”  
“Oh course! Blooky is great, but…”  
Toriel watches her, brows raised over her reading glasses.  
Frisk bows their head.  
“Nevermind. Sorry, Mom.”  
Toriel smiles gently.  
“I know the Ruins are very small, once you get used to them. Once you are grown, we will...discuss it. But for now, sit with me a while and I will read to you.”  
Frisk obediently snuggles close to their mother, closing their eyes contentedly as interesting snail facts wash over them. 

___

“You know you don’t actually matter to her, right?”  
Frisk frowns at Flowey, his bitter face bizarrely set in the middle of the beautiful golden flower that seemed to be his body.  
“That’s not true. Mom loves me.”  
“Uh huh. Sure. Just like she loved all those other kids. The kids she never talks about. Or has pictures of.” The flower smiles. “The kids who all slept in that same bed. Ate at the same table, played with the same toys. Wore the same bin of shoes. Or did you think goats just collected children’s shoes just in case a child falls into their lap?” Flowey shakes his head. “Wow. You really ARE stupid. I can’t believe you’re still here. Does she even use your name?” It leans forward. “Or does she just call you ‘my child’ all the time? Does she even know how old you really are? One way or another, here in the Ruins or out in the Underground...you’ll die eventually. And she’ll replace you the instant another kid falls down here. I watch it happen all the time.”  
Frisk stares, speechless, tears gathering in their eyes.  
“You have all this power, and you’re just...wasting it. Frittering it away on pointless lessons with a hairy old nanny who can’t tell you from a faded memory. Pathetic.” He laughs. “I’ve got better things to do than rot here with you. When you bother to do anything that matters, I’ll be waiting.”  
He vanishes into the ground.


	3. Fight or Run Away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk POV

Frisk stares their mother down, resolute. Determined. Toriel had caught them trying to sneak out in the dead of night, long since sick of waiting.   
“I thought it was enough to destroy the exit,” Toriel says bitterly. “I told you what would happen. What always happens. Every human that falls down here meets the same fate.”   
Frisk watches her quietly as tears well in Toriel’s eyes, ruby red above a muzzle shot with silver.   
“They leave. They die. You naive child…Asgore will kill you.”   
Frisk shakes their head, but before they can speak, Toriel cuts them off.   
“You will go to your death. I was only trying to protect you! Don’t you like living with me? I know...the Ruins are very small, but…” she searches Frisk’s face, and seems disappointed with whatever she finds. “Fine. If you want to leave so badly, prove to me you can survive.”   
A deep chill settles in Frisk’s bones at those words, hauntingly familiar. Toriel flinches at the expression. “Wait...why....are you looking at me like that? Like you have seen a ghost. Do you know something that I do not?” Toriel shakes her head, struggling to regain her composure. “No. That is impossible.”   
Everything fades away in the face of Toriel’s magic, and Frisk watches their soul emerge, red and vibrant in a black and white battlefield. Can Frisk show mercy without fighting or running away?   
The cheery flames Frisk was so used to seeing in the oven or the fireplace now rush toward them with alarming speed, but they sidestep each attack, offering no violence. There is no smell of smoke, no crackle of ozone. Toriel’s fire magic is a pure, crackling orange, and every near miss brings with it a terrible heat.   
“What are you doing?” Toriel demands.   
Frisk moves only to dodge attacks, saying nothing.   
“Attack or run away!”   
Frisk smiles sadly at their mother. An errant flame catches them, but they survive, smothering the flames trying to eat their sweater, and refuse to attack.   
“What are you proving this way?” Toriel demands.   
Frisk shakes their head. Tears prick in their eyes.   
“Fight or run away!”   
Frisk shakes their head again.   
“Stop it.” Toriel’s voice is flat, and still Frisk makes no move to harm her.   
“Stop looking at me that way.”   
Frisk stands motionless as Toriel’s attacks begin to veer harmlessly to either side.   
“Please...why are you making this so difficult? Just...go upstairs. Aren’t you happy here?” Tears begin to fall from her eyes, and still Frisk doesn’t move. Slowly Toriel sinks to her knees. “I...I knew this day would come.” Color returns to the world as Toriel loses the will to fight. “The Ruins...are very small, once you get used to them.”   
Frisk says nothing, so Toriel soldiers on.   
“It wouldn’t be right for you to stay in a place like this forever. You already have done so much to relieve my loneliness...the least I can do is set aside my fear and let you go.” She sniffles wetly. “I will miss you, my child.”   
Frisk folds the monster into a tight hug, breathing in deep. My child. Even now, after ten years together...did Toriel even know their name?  
“I love you, Mom.”   
“I love you too, my child.”   
At least Toriel thinks their tears are from the pain of parting. And to be fair...more than a few of them are.  
______ 

Sneaking out hadn’t really worked, but ultimately, Frisk reflects, it was for the best. Their freedom was long overdue. The moon shines bright over a pristine layer of snow, and Frisk kicks playfully at the powder, skipping a little as they walk down the trail to Snowden. As the Ruins begin to fall behind them, however, a growing sense of unease blossoms in Frisk’s chest. The deep shadows between the trees seem more threatening, the silence more oppressive, until Frisk jumps at a small crack. The sound is impossible to pinpoint, and suddenly, in the dark and the cold, setting off on their own seems more foolish than they had considered...they hurry on, soon approaching a small bridge. Deja-vu overwhelms Frisk through their fear, and they sway a little on their feet.   
“HUMAN,” an ominous voice tolls behind them.   
Frisk shivers.   
“DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO GREET AN OLD PAL?”   
Frisk spins around and clasps the skeleton’s hand, grinning widely at the horrible THPPPPPPPPPPBT of the whoopie cushion.  
“Hello, Sans,” they say happily. To their delight, the short skeleton seems utterly thrown.   
“Frisk! It’s good to see you. Uh.Lucky how you guessed I was a lefty too, huh? Or that’dve been weird.” He flashes a wide grin. “Wanna go to Grillby’s? Best introduction to the underground, hands-down.”   
Frisk pulls their hand free from the whoopee cushion and smiles warmly.   
“Sure!” 

_____

“Sup, bro?”   
“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IS UP, BROTHER! IT HAS BEEN TEN DAYS AND YOU STILL. HAVEN’T. RECALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES!” The taller skeletons huffs and stamps his foot on the ground, absolutely furious and utterly unintimidating. “WHERE HAVE YOU EVEN BEEN?”   
“Staring at this sentry station. It’s pretty impressive.”   
“THAT IS A PILE OF KETCHUP BOTTLES.”   
“100 percent recycled materials.”   
“BROTHER, YOU LAZYBONES! HOW CAN I LEAVE YOU IN CHARGE OF THE SNOWDIN HONORARY CHAPTER OF THE ROYAL GUARD IF YOU SIT AROUND AND PLAY WITH GARBAGE ALL DAY?? CEASE THIS JAPERY AND ATTEND TO YOUR DUTIES!”  
“Are you sure you don’t wanna check out this sentry station?”   
“NO! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! YOU HAVE TO BE READY! YOU HAVE TO BE THE ONE! THEN WE CAN BOTH BE FAMOUS AND ADORED AS WE SO RICHLY DESERVE! I’LL OPEN MY RESTURAUNT ON THE SURFACE, AND YOU...YOU WILL SIT IN IT AND DO NOTHING, PROBABLY. BUT FIRST WE HAVE TO WORK!”  
“Well, maybe this pile of- I mean, this sentry station will help you.”   
“SANS! YOU ARE NOT HELPING! YOU GET LAZIER EVERY DAY! UGH!! I WILL ATTEND TO MY PUZZLES... AS FOR YOUR WORK? PUT A LITTLE MORE, "BACKBONE" INTO IT!!!! NYEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!!”   
He marches stiffly away, turns, and then says, “HEH!”   
“He got the last laugh, so we should be safe now,” Sans assures Frisk. “You can come out.”  
They crawl out from behind the bottles, brushing their hair out of their face.   
“My bro’s harmless, really,” Sans assures them. “I...hate to bother ya, buh I actually hoping you could do me a favor.” He rubs the back of his skull awkwardly. “See, Paps has been real down lately, and he’s never met a human before. Seeing you just might make his day.”   
Frisk nods and smiles, and Sans beams back at them.   
“Thanks a million. I’ll be up ahead. We’ll cheer up my bro and go to Grillby’s after.”   
He hurries off, leaving Frisk alone in the snow. 

Frisk treks along the path, enjoying the quiet. Ahead, the path branches, and a save point twinkles merrily at the fork. They approach uncertainly, but the convenience of the ketchup bottle pile fills them with determination, and they touch the twinkling light.   
“You’re so STUPID,” a tiny voice accuses bitterly. Frisk spins around in shock, confronted with Flowey for the first time in years. “So you were able to play by your own rules. I know what you did. You understood this world, and you threw it all away because you,” his tiny face twists with disgust “you felt BAD. So you didn’t kill anybody this time. But what will you do when you meet a relentless killer? You’ll die and you’ll die and you’ll die and you’ll die. Until you tire of trying, or there’s nothing left of you at all. Will you kill out of frustration? Desperation?” The monster smiles. “Well. I’ll be watching.” It laughs, a horrible, keening sound, and vanishes into the earth.   
Frisk touches the flower in their hair, feeling sick. Flowey had left them alone for years....they didn’t understand why he would return now, or what he was talking about.   
Frisk presses on, as though distance would lessen the strange weight in their chest. 

\------ 

Snatches of conversation can be heard through the trees.   
“SO, AS I WAS SAYING ABOUT UNDYNE,” a familiar voice booms.   
Frisk steps into the clearing, and the tall skeleton freezes, before doing a comic triple take and dragging his shorter brother aside.   
“SANS! IS THAT...A HUMAN??”  
“Uh. I think that’s a rock. But..what’s that in FRONT of the rock?”   
“OH MY GOD!!” He turns aside, using his bony hand to cover his unsurprisingly loud whisper, “IS THAT A HUMAN?”   
Sans winks at Frisk.   
“yes” he whispers to his brother.   
“OH MY GOD! IT’S FINALLY HAPPENING! UNDYNE WILL BE SO….I’M GONNA.. I’LL BE SO…” He seems to be hyperventilating. “THE REWARD! MY RESTURAUNT!!! EVERYTHING IS FINALLY COMING TOGETHER!” He abruptly gathers his composure, coughing delicately before pointing dramatically at Frisk. “HUMAN! YOU SHALL NOT PASS THIS AREA!! I, THE GREAT AND WONDERFUL PAPYRUS, WILL STOP YOU! I WILL CAPTURE YOU! YOU WILL BE DELIVERED TO THE CAPITAL! THEN...THEN!!” He pauses. “I AM NOT SURE WHAT IS NEXT. IN ANY CASE...CONTINUE IF YOU DARE!” He marches away, cackling gleefully.   
Sans winks at Frisk again.   
“Well, that went well. Don’t sweat it, kiddo. I’m keeping an eyesocket out for ya.” He grins at them, a faint blue tinting his cheeks, before hurrying after his brother.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans POV

“Knock knock.”   
“Who’s there?”   
“Mustache.”   
“Mustache who?”   
“Mustache you a question, but I’ll shave it for later.” 

Frisk’s laughter bubbles through the door, and Sans’ heart feels...strange. Light. They had been doing this for years, now. Frisk’s voice had gone through a weird phase of cracking and soaring, but had since settled (at least for the most part.) Sometimes he misses her for days at a time, but she always leaves letters to explain, or sends Napstablook to apologize for her. As they got older, Toriel seemed to sense Frisk’s growing restlessness and responded by piling on lessons. Toriel also began returning to the door for their joke sessions, which makes things a little more complicated - he never knows who will be behind the door, or if anyone would be there at all. 

“Hey Sans?”   
“Yeah kiddo?”   
They laugh.   
“Sans, I don’t think I count as a kid anymore.”   
“Sure buddy. Whatever you say.”   
“I’m serious! I, ah, have a question for you. A favor? I just, um.”   
“Spit it out, ki- er, buddy.”   
“I...don’t think my mom wants me to leave. Um. Ever. I thought...I could leave when I was grown, but…” A sick feeling grows in Sans’ chest as Frisk continues. “I don’t think she’s ever going to agree to let me go. I tried once. When I was little. She...didn’t like it. But I want to see the Underground! And if the King needs a human to help destroy the Barrier, I want to do that too! I want to help. And...I want to see you. I want to meet your friends. And your brother. But…” He can hear them sigh, even through the heavy door.   
“I made a promise once, you know. To Toriel. To your mom.” Sans’ voice is soft. “I promised to protect any human that came through this door. I think...she knew you would leave someday. But Frisk...the King doesn’t want your help. He wants…” he swallows hard. “He wants your soul. He’s already taken six kids so far. You’d be the seventh. The final soul to break the seal.”   
There’s a silence so long Sans is scared they left. That they might not come back. But eventually, a small voice says,   
“I know. I...want to go anyway. I think..” the voice grows more certain, more determined, “There must be another way. I can help! I’ve learned a lot, and I know that there are really smart monsters in the Underground. Like, there’s a Royal Scientist, right? And I’ve...seen my soul, in fights. When everything goes weird and glowy. I can...I can take care of myself.”   
Sans sighs.   
“I won’t stop ya, kid. But I can’t tell you it’ll be safe, either. The Underground is no place for a human.”   
“I know. But...you’ll be around, right? Maybe we can go to that place you like. The grill place?”   
His chest tightens again.   
“Grillbz? Sure, kid. Whenever you wanna go, you just say the word.”   
\--------

Someone steps out of the Ruins, but...there’s no way it could be Frisk. She’s too tall, too old. She’s practically... Sans shakes his head, pulling up his hoodie and quietly following the figure through the woods toward Snowden.   
A twig underfoot betrays his presence, and only a quick flashstep into the trees saves him from being spotted. The figure ahead seems to know something is wrong, and draws to a stop by the bridge. That sweater… it matches the picture from so long ago, and descriptions painstakingly coaxed from Napstablook…right down to the golden flower in her hair. She’s taller than he is by a few scant inches, and the sweater looks like it’s been mended and let down a number of times over the years, worn like a tunic over dark leggings and sensible boots. The striped sweater is thick and shapeless, but cannot entirely conceal her modest curves. She’s breathtaking. It’s not fair. She...definitely does not count as a kid anymore.   
“HUMAN,” he says in his best scary voice, muting his eyelights and approaching from behind. A whoopee cushion is taped to his left hand. She shivers a little in front of him, and he shakes his head. “DON’T YOU KNOW HOW TO GREET AN OLD PAL?” She spins around suddenly, startling him, and the loud THBBBBBPPPT of the whoopie cushion seems less funny than when he was planning it last week.   
“Hello Sans,” she burbles happily. Sans swallows hard.  
“Frisk! It’s good to see you. Uh.” He glances at her hand entangled in his, the whoopie cushion between them. “Lucky how you guessed I was a lefty too, huh? Or that would’ve been weird.” He flashes a wide grin to cover his sudden unease. How had she known? They’d never seen each other face to face. Was it a lucky guess? She’s staring at him, eyes warm and dark under thick bangs, and he pushes his racing thoughts aside. “Wanna go to Grillby’s? Best introduction to the underground, hands-down.”   
Frisk pulls their hand free from his and flashes a brilliant smile.   
“Sure!” 

____

“Quick! Behind that convenient pile of garbage!”   
Frisk dives behind the monument to laziness accummulating near one of his many sentry stations. Papyrus marches into the clearing only seconds after she shoots him a wink and ducks out of sight.   
“Sup, bro?”   
Frisk is mugging shamelessly from her hiding place, pulling dumb faces to distract Sans.   
“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT IS UP, BROTHER! IT HAS BEEN TEN DAYS AND YOU STILL. HAVEN’T. RECALIBRATED YOUR PUZZLES!” The taller skeletons huffs and stamps his foot on the ground, absolutely furious and utterly unintimidating. “WHERE HAVE YOU EVEN BEEN?”   
“Staring at this sentry station. It’s pretty impressive.” He snickers.   
“THAT IS A PILE OF KETCHUP BOTTLES.”   
“100 percent recycled materials.” It’s so hard to stay on top of his game with her acting up like that. Now she’s mimicking Paps, mouthing along with his ranting.  
“BROTHER, YOU LAZYBONES! HOW CAN I LEAVE YOU IN CHARGE OF THE SNOWDIN HONORARY CHAPTER OF THE ROYAL GUARD IF YOU SIT AROUND AND PLAY WITH GARBAGE ALL DAY?? CEASE THIS JAPERY AND ATTEND TO YOUR DUTIES!”  
“Are you sure you don’t wanna check out this sentry station?” Sans is pretty sure his brother wouldn’t recognize a human if one kissed him.   
“NO! I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! ALL YOU DO IS SIT AND BOONDOGGLE! WHAT IF A HUMAN COMES THROUGH HERE!?! YOU HAVE TO BE READY! YOU HAVE TO BE THE ONE! THEN WE CAN BOTH BE FAMOUS AND ADORED AS WE SO RICHLY DESERVE! I’LL OPEN MY RESTURAUNT ON THE SURFACE, AND YOU...YOU WILL SIT IN IT AND DO NOTHING, PROBABLY. BUT FIRST WE HAVE TO WORK!”  
Frisk’s relentless teasing stops at that, and she looks thoughtful. Sad, maybe?  
“Well, maybe this pile of- I mean, this sentry station will help you.”   
“SANS! YOU ARE NOT HELPING! YOU GET LAZIER EVERY DAY!”   
___

He really didn’t think she’d go for it, but Frisk agrees to help cheer up his brother. Sans didn’t care for fame or fortune, but Papyrus did, and if he was the first to spot a human...well, maybe he’d feel a little better about not having his own resturaunt yet. It was really starting to get to him, Sans could tell. Food was his passion. And the reward for just SPOTTING a human was so high, his brother could fund as many spaghetti-only shops as he wanted.   
That meant leaving Frisk alone while he helped Papyrus set up traps and generally pretending he didn’t already know her, but he’d do anything to make his bro happy, and Frisk...she would be fine. He’s keeping a good eye on her. Mostly. Snowdin was full of dogs, anyway. Weren’t they like man’s best friend or something?   
Sans frowns, fighting down unease as he helps his brother construct elaborate traps.   
She’s fine.   
She’s definitely fine.   
Maybe...he should check. Just in case.   
A flashstep, and he’s just out of sight, watching her engaged in a fight with Doggo. Her SOUL is visible, a deep red. Somehow, he isn’t surprised. She struck him as a Determination SOUL. The sight fills him with a strange wistfulness, though. Wistfulness, and dread.   
She stands motionless as Doggo barks wildly.   
“PET?? PAT?? I’VE BEEN PET!!”   
Sans watches her navigate Doggo’s attacks with ease, petting him on the sly until he wanders off to have a soothing smoke break.   
She seems a little tired, he reflects. But safe. And she watches Doggo with a kind of amused affection, matching aggression with kindness.   
His heart warms to watch her, the strange dread melting away. Reassured, he takes a shortcut to his brother. 

_____

Papyrus was ecstatic as he put the finishing touches on his electricity trap.   
“IT IS, IF I SAY SO MYSELF, A WORK OF GENIUS,” he crows. “TRULY WORTHY OF AN HONORARY GUARDSMAN! THE HUMAN WILL BE BAFFLED!”   
“It’s pretty great, bro. You worked really hard on it, and it shows.”   
Papyrus beams.   
“THAT IS BECAUSE I AM VERY GREAT AND INDUSTRIOUS! YOU WOULD BENEFIT FROM MY EXAMPLE! DID YOU KNOW THAT YOU WERE NAPPING ALL NIGHT?! THAT IS ENTIRELY TOO MUCH NAP!”   
“I think that’s called...sleeping.”   
“EXCUSES, EXCUSES!” Suddenly, Papyrus notices Frisk standing on the opposite edge of the clearing.   
“HUMAN! BEHOLD! IN ORDER TO STOP YOU, MY BROTHER AND I DEVISED SOME PUZZLES! I THINK YOU WILL FIND THIS ONE QUITE...SHOCKING!” He laughs a little to himself. “FOR YOU SEE, THIS IS AN INVISIBLE ELECTRIC MAZE! WHEN YOU TAKE A WRONG STEP, THIS ORB WILL ADMINISTER A ZAP!” He tosses a silvery ball in the air and catches it neatly. “SOUND LIKE FUN?? BECAUSE THE AMOUNT OF FUN THAT YOU WILL HAVE… IS ACTUALLY NOT VERY MUCH I THINK. SO PLEASE! FEEL FREE TO PROCEED!”   
Frisk bites their lip and takes a step onto the maze; the orb shocks Papyrus immediately. The look of surprise and concern on Frisk’s face is genuine and unguarded, and Sans feels a rush of warmth for this strange, quiet girl.   
“SANS! WHAT DID YOU DO?”   
“I think the human has to hold the orb, bro.”   
“OH, OK.” Papyrus walks through the maze to Frisk, marring the snow in a perfectly marked path.   
“HOLD THIS PLEASE!” He hands her the orb, then retraces his steps and beams triumphantly.   
“OK, TRY NOW!”   
Frisk follows his footsteps exactly, emerging unharmed at the other side of the maze.   
“INCREDIBLE! YOU SOLVED IT SO EASILY….HOWEVER! THE NEXT PUZZLE WILL NOT BE SO EASY! IT IS DESIGNED BY MY BROTHER, SANS! I AM CERTAIN YOU WILL BE CONFOUNDED! NYEH HEH HEH HEH!!” He marches off, grinning.   
Frisk steps up to Sans, and he offers her an easy grin.   
“Hey. Thanks for this. He’s really seems like he’s having fun...”   
Frisk nods.   
“I like his outfit,” she offers. Sans beams.   
“Yeah? We made that a few weeks ago for his new job at Grillby’s. He’s their top chef. He studied for years…burned down our house twice. Someday he’s going to open his own place. Isn’t he the coolest?”


	5. Complex Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk POV

Frisk stares in shock at their own shattered soul, crushed by a massive axe in the hands of a love-struck dog in executioner’s robes.  
“I…” they squeak breathlessly, before darkness rushes over them. Suddenly, they’re staring at a plate of frozen spaghetti. Delicious, handcrafted spaghetti they had microwaved and eaten only hours before.   
They take two steps and retch. They just...died. And came back. That’s not possible.   
Something coils, deep in their gut, in their bones. Slowly, they crouch to look at their reflection in the glass of the microwave. Another golden flower rests in their short brown hair, tucked next to the first. They tug on it experimentally, and a familiar nauseating pain wracks them. It’s a part of them.   
Frisk curls up next to the mousehole and cries for a long, long time. 

___ 

Snowdin is beautiful. The sight of such a friendly town fills Frisk with determination, and they try to meet everyone in town. The houses are all festooned with twinkling lights, and the snow reflects the colors, so stepping into town feels like stepping into a prism. The monsters don’t seem to recognize Frisk as human, so they move freely through the town, complimenting and learning a little about everyone. Their history, their holidays...Frisk sits for a while in the warmth of the library, reading everything they can. It’s been so long since the last documented human that the monsters have started pursuing alternate ways to break the barrier...and it seems like some of the attempts went more poorly than others. Frisk shivers and reshelves the book, excusing theirself just before closing so they can make one last stop before finding someplace to sleep. The local shopkeeper in particular is very kind, and sells them two cinnamon buns, just like the one Sans gave them so long ago. They snarf one down as they head back to one of the sentry stations to sleep. It’s not ideal, but it’s getting dark. If Frisk can just get past Papyrus… they’re be a little closer to Hotland, and the Royal Scientist. They crawl under the counter of the station, wad their empty pack up as a makeshift pillow, pull their jacket a little tighter, and drift off to a troubled sleep. 

The next morning they find fresh prints in the snow around the sentry station. They frown deeply. Did someone find them? They shiver, and resolve to find a safer place to sleep. They’ve already reset five times… Frisk touches their flowers thoughtfully and treks into town. It’s time to try to get around Papyrus. 

____ 

“HUMAN. ALLOW ME TO TELL YOU ABOUT SOME….COMPLEX FEELINGS.”  
Fog obscures the road, rendering the normally adorable Papyrus a dark figure, lit only by his own eyelights. “FEELINGS LIKE… THE JOY OF FINDING ANOTHER PASTA LOVER. THE ADMIRATION OF ANOTHER PERSON’S PUZZLE SOLVING SKILLS. THE DESIRE TO HAVE A SMART, COOL PERSON THINK YOU ARE COOL. THESE FEELINGS...THEY MUST BE WHAT YOU ARE FEELING RIGHT NOW!! I CAN HARDLY IMAGINE WHAT IT MUST BE LIKE TO FEEL THAT WAY. I AM, AFTER ALL, VERY GREAT.” He seems to wilt a little. “I DON’T EVER WONDER WHAT HAVING LOTS OF FRIENDS IS LIKE. I PITY YOU...LONELY HUMAN…” He seems to straighten. “WORRY NOT! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BE YOUR....” He trails off. “NO….NO. THIS IS ALL WRONG! I CAN’T BE YOUR FRIEND! YOU ARE A HUMAN! I MUST CAPTURE YOU! THEN, I CAN FULFILL MY LIFELONG DREAM!!!” He begins to work himself into a frenzy. “POWERFUL! POPULAR! PRESTIGIOUS!!! THAT’S PAPYRUS!!! THE NEWEST AND MOST GLORIOUS CHEF IN ALL OF THE UNDERGROUND!!”   
Papyrus blocks the way, and Frisk is filled with determination.   
Papyrus cackles, flinging bones at Frisk. They dodge easily, grinning.   
“Hey Papyrus! Do you have a raisin?”   
He pauses mid swing.   
“WHAT? NO?”   
Frisk grins.   
“Then how about...a DATE?”   
“WHAT? F-FLIRTING?? WITH FOOD JOKES?? SO YOU FINALLY REVEAL YOUR ULTIMATE FEELINGS...W-WELL! I AM A SKELETON WITH VERY HIGH STANDARDS!”   
Frisk considers the frozen plate of spaghetti he had made for them.   
“I can make spaghetti,” they offer honestly. He goggles at her, utterly thrown.   
“OH NO!! YOU’RE MEETING ALL OF MY STANDARDS!! I GUESS THAT MEANS I HAVE TO GO ON A DATE WITH YOU?” He blushes a brilliant orange. “L-LET’S DATE LATER! AFTER I CAPTURE YOU!” He resumes his attacks, and Frisk does their best to dodge.   
“I don’t want to fight, Papyrus!” they call out, clutching their bleeding arm.   
“WE’LL DATE LATER! I JUST NEED TO CAPTURE YOU FIRST!”   
“Not really interested in being captured!”   
“THEN IT IS TOO BAD FOR YOU THAT I AM SO VERY GREAT!” More attacks follow, and Frisk continues to decline to attack.   
“SO, YOU WON’T FIGHT...THEN LET’S SEE HOW YOU LIKE MY FABLED BLUE ATTACK!” Several harmless attacks pass through Frisk, and their soul turns blue and drops to the ground.   
“YOU’RE BLUE NOW. THAT’S MY ATTACK!” He cackles gleefully.   
Frisk is blue now, and considers their own soul in surprise. Papyrus’ attacks become more difficult to dodge as a result, and start catching more injuries, until they eat their last cinnamon bunny in desperation. Papyrus is starting to lose focus, already planning their date and daubing strange things on his skull.   
“I CAN ALMOST TASTE MY FUTURE SUCCESS! PAPYRUS! OWNER OF A BAJILLION STAR RESTURAUNT!! UNDYNE WILL BE SO PROUD OF ME!”  
Frisk smiles warmly at him, blood trickling from their lip.   
He cringes, trying hard to play it cool, rattling his bones.  
“I’LL HAVE LOTS OF ADMIRERS! BUT...WILL ANYONE LIKE ME AS SINCERELY AS YOU?”  
Frisk dodges another barrage of attacks.   
“SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS REALLY RARE. AND DATING MIGHT BE REALLY HARD.” His face falls. “AFTER YOU’RE CAPTURED AND SENT AWAY.” He shakes his head, suddenly angry. “UGH. WHO CARES?? GIVE UP!!”   
He attacks with renewed vigour, and Frisk takes several bad hits, but refuses to give up. A dog runs in and begins chewing on the bones.   
“HEY! THAT’S MY SPECIAL ATTACK! YOU STUPID DOG! TOBY!! STOP MUNCHING ON THAT BONE! HEY! COME BACK HERE!!!”   
The dog runs off into the distance with the bone, tail wagging madly.   
“OH WELL. I’LL JUST USE A REALLY COOL REGULAR ATTACK.”   
Frisk dodges again by a hair, panting raggedly. Papyrus has his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.   
“WELL! I...IT’S CLEAR...YOU CAN’T DEFEAT ME! YEAH! I CAN SEE YOU SHAKING IN YOUR BOOTS! THEREFORE I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ELECT TO SHOW YOU PITY! I WILL SPARE YOU, HUMAN! NOW IS THE CHANCE TO ACCEPT MY MERCY.”   
Color rushes back into the world as they both lose the will to fight. Papyrus turns away, distraught.   
“NOOOOO…..I CAN’T EVEN STOP SOMEONE AS WEAK AS YOU...UNDYNE IS GOING TO BE REALLY DISAPPOINTED IN ME. I’LL NEVER SEE THAT REWARD...AND MY FRIEND QUANTITY WILL REMAIN STAGNANT!”   
Frisk rubs their mouth.   
“Papyrus...let’s be friends.”   
The gangly skeleton spins around, elated.   
“R-REALLY? YOU WANT TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME? WELL THEN...I GUESS...I CAN MAKE AN ALLOWANCE FOR YOU! WOWIE! WE HAVEN’T EVEN HAD OUR FIRST DATE….AND I’VE ALREADY MANAGED TO HIT THE FRIEND ZONE!!! WHO KNEW THAT ALL I NEEDED TO MAKE PALS….WAS TO GIVE PEOPLE AWFUL PUZZLES AND THEN FIGHT THEM?? YOU TAUGHT ME A LOT, HUMAN. I HEREBY GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO PASS THROUGH! AND I’LL GIVE YOU DIRECTIONS TO THE SURFACE! JUST FOLLOW THIS ROAD...UNTIL YOU REACH THE CAPITAL! AND THEN YOU WILL SEE THE BARRIER. THAT’S THE MAGICAL SEAL TRAPPING US ALL HERE.ANYONE CAN ENTER...BUT ONLY SOMEONE WITH A POWERFUL SOUL CAN LEAVE! LIKE YOU!! THAT’S WHY THE KING WANTS TO AQUIRE A HUMAN.HE WANTS TO OPEN THE BARRIER WITH SOUL POWER. THEN WE CAN ALL RETURN TO THE SURFACE!”  
Frisk smiles, and coughs a little, spitting blood onto the snow.   
“BUT FIRST, LET US GET YOU PATCHED UP!! I HAVE JUST THE THING!”   
He takes them by the hand and tows Frisk back to Snowdin, to the house he shares with Sans. 

___ 

Their HP is too low, and everything keeps slipping out of focus. Dimly, they’re aware of being bundled onto a couch, of a cool hand on their forehead.  
“Here, sweetheart, eat this. It’ll fix you right up.”   
They fumble a candy into their mouth and immediately start feeling better.   
Sans swims into view, his round face a perfect picture of concern before he coughs and pulls away.   
“Heh. You two scared me. Don’t...don’t do that again, ok?”  
They smile up at him.  
“We’re friends now,” Frisk says happily.   
“YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEFRIENDED THE HUMAN.”   
They nod, reaching out to tug on San’s sleeve.   
“Kiddo?”   
Frisk bites their lip.   
“Can I...rest here for a little while? Just for a minute?”   
Papyrus swoops in.   
“REST AS LONG AS YOU LIKE, HUMAN! FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL BE THE BEST POSSIBLE HOST, AND GIVE YOU PLENTY OF TIME TO REST AND PREPARE FOR OUR DATE!”   
“Uh, sounds like I just became a third wheel,” Sans says, eyelights suddenly gone. “I’ll be in my room. You kids have fun.”   
He won’t look at them, patting Frisk on their good shoulder before heading upstairs. The door closes with a snap, and multicolored lights steam under the gap.   
Somehow, Frisk feels like something just went very wrong.   
Toby, the skeleton brother’s tiny pet dog, whines and drops Papyrus’ special attack at Frisk’s feet.  
“Good dog,” they sigh.   
“UH,” PAPYRUS booms. “WELCOME TO OUR HOUSE. PLEASE MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE. Frisk wanders around the little house curiously, noting all the little details that spoke volumes of its occupants. There was a sock festooned with sticky notes next to the television, narrating a surreal back-and-forth about the sock’s proper resting place. A joke book rests on the couch...but when Frisk looks inside, it’s just a quantum physics book with the wrong dust cover. A thin jokebook is being used as a makeshift bookmark- but when Frisk looks inside, there’s a physics paper.   
Frisk puts the book down.   
“W-WELL! HERE WE ARE!” Papyrus says awkwardly. “ON OUR DATE! I’VE … ACTUALLY NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE.” He blushes. “BUT DON’T WORRY! YOU CAN’T SPELL PREPARED WITHOUT SEVERAL LETTERS FROM MY NAME! I SNAGGED AN OFFICIAL DATING RULEBOOK FROM THE LIBRARY….”


	6. Flower You Doin'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans POV

She has flowers in her hair, like buttercups but with more petals. Tucked right into the hair at her temple, but...when she brushes her hair from her face, the flowers don’t fall. They shift a little, but never seem to wilt or come loose.  
“Hey, kiddo?”   
She smiles at him as she casually cracks a bysicle in half, sharing it with him. It seems to be something she does without thinking, like breathing. Sometimes he feels like he’s known her forever, they’re so easy together, but she’s hard to read.   
“Where’d you get those flowers? I’ve never seen that kind before.”   
He’d swear pure terror flashed across her face, gutwrenching, before she schools it into her usual serene smile.   
“I dunno. Home I guess? You like it?”   
He nods.   
“Yeah. They’re real, uh, pretty on you.”   
She blushes faintly and smiles wider, indicating that he should eat his treat as she takes a bite of hers. Sans doesn’t pursue the subject further, but he doesn’t forget, either. 

___

He should have realized she had nowhere to go. Guilt twists inside him as he stares. She’s curled up under the counter at one of his sentry stations, without a blanket or pillow. Her hair obscures her face, and those flowers...they’re still in her hair. More of them. He’s beside her, hand almost touching her face, before he’s struck by how incredibly vulnerable she seems, and how terrifying he might seem, unexpectedly waking her. He flashsteps away, clutching his skull.   
He would...get her breakfast. And then...find a way to get her a place to stay. He has a couch. Anything is better than sleeping outside. Papyrus… he would think of something.   
For the first time, he wonders if Grillby makes anything other than burgers and fries. 

___ 

Laden down with a bag of burgers and several bottles of ketchup, Sans takes a shortcut to the sentry station, but Frisk is already gone. He checks the snow around the station, following her out of Snowdin...just in time to see a bone attack pierce her shoulder. Burgers tumble into the snow as the bag slips from suddenly nerveless fingers.   
It’s all so horribly familiar. He clutches his head, wracked with a deep and horrifying sorrow.   
Distantly, her voice breaks through his haze, trying to talk Papyrus down.  
“I don’t want to fight, Papyrus!”   
“WE’LL DATE LATER! I JUST NEED TO CAPTURE YOU FIRST!!”   
Sans’ gaze snaps up. Surely he misheard. He watches the fight, transfixed. Every strike that lands feels like a knife in his heart as blood makes rosettes on her beloved sweater.  
“SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS REALLY RARE...AND DATING MIGHT BE HARD AFTER YOU’RE CAPTURED AND SENT AWAY…”   
He heard correctly. He had no idea she even...That she…

She takes several bad hits, and he takes a dozen steps forward before he stops himself. Papyrus would never kill her. He’s harmless.   
He takes a deep breath.   
It looks like the battle will be over soon. Papyrus isn’t really trying anymore, and ...and their dog, Toby, runs past with his special attack. Sans warned him that trick probably wouldn’t work.   
He flashsteps away. Frisk will be okay. He needs to think. 

___ 

“BROTHER! BROTHER! I AM HERE WITH THE HUMAN! WHERE ARE OUR BANDAGES?”   
A flashstep, and Sans is already guiding Frisk to the couch, checking her over. A thin sheen of sweat covers her brow, and he’s murmuring to her reassuringly, shrugging her out of her jacket so he can get to her injuries. He knows she’s okay. But he can’t stop fretting.   
“It’s not too bad,” he says to the room at large. “Are you okay, Paps?”   
The tall skeleton blushes a brilliant orange.   
“THE HUMAN DECLINED TO ATTACK,” he says.   
Sans shoots him a look, eyelights out.  
“What, at all?”   
Papyrus nods, twisting his hands nervously. Sans pulls a monster candy from his pocket, pushing it on Frisk.   
“Here, sweetheart. Eat this, it’ll fix ya right up.” His lights flicker back, looking at her, and he brushes hair from her face before coughing awkwardly. “Heh. You two scared me. Don’t...don’t do that again, ok?”   
She pops the candy into her mouth, smiling up at him gratefully.   
“We’re friends now,” she announces, color returning to her cheeks as magic mends her body and SOUL.   
“YES! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEFRIENDED THE HUMAN.”   
She nods, then reaches out to grab San’s sleeve.  
“Sw-Kiddo?” He stops himself before he says the wrong thing. Again.   
She looks up at him, biting her lip, and he fights back the urge to touch her face again. It’s not fair.  
“Can I...rest here for a little while? Just for a minute?”   
She sounds so...wistful? He’s not sure how to read her face, and before he can assure her, Papyrus swoops in, booming about their date. Sans makes himself scarce. He needs to think. 

 

_______

“Hey. Uh. How was your date?”   
Frisk shakes her head.   
“Friends. We’re just friends.” She smiles at him. “It went really well.” She pats the couch beside her. “He said I could sleep here tonight. On the couch. Is...is that okay?”   
Sans nods.   
“Uh, absolutely. I was actually gonna offer...uh. Do you want a blanket, or…?” He’s fumbling his words like a babybones, but she nods shyly.   
“I don’t want to impose…”   
Sans shakes his head.   
“No, uh...it’s no problem. Really.” He slouches upstairs to his room and returns with a blanket and pillow. “Here ya go, uh, kiddo.” She takes them and sets them on the arm of the couch before patting the space beside her. He stands there awkwardly for a minute, then offers abruptly, “Do you wanna wash your clothes? I can loan you somethin’...”   
She looks down at her sweater, stained with soot, blood, and covered in dog hair and dried slobber.  
“That… might be a good idea. If you don’t mind? You’ve already been so kind…”   
Sans shakes his head.   
“Nonsense. We’re pals and you’re my guest. The bathroom is upstairs, come on. You can take a bath, and I’ll find something for you to wear while you’re stuff is in the wash.” It’s easier to focus on helping her. On something besides how she keeps looking at him.   
Frisk rises and follows him meekly upstairs, listening gratefully to his explaination of the taps for the bath, accepting a towel and a wad of clothes from his room. She vanishes into the bathroom for what seems like an eternity...but it’s only one episode of Cooking With Mettaton so far.   
He has to get a grip. He puts her things in the wash and sets the timer. They wouldn’t be finished by the time she would probably want to sleep, but her things would be clean and dry by morning.   
When Frisk emerges, she’s wearing an old pair of sweatpants and his favorite shirt. Her hair is mussed and damp, but the flowers...the flowers are still in her hair.   
“Heh. Flower you doin, buddy?” Is she just obsessed with flowers? That seems...unlikely.  
She touches the flowers and blushes, cringing a little, before settling beside him on the couch.   
“I feel...much better. Thank you.”   
“S’nothin. Don’t mention it.” He gestures at the television. “Wanna watch for a bit? Not my favorite, but Paps is nuts for it.”   
Frisk nods, sighing contentedly and curling up a little beside him. An episode passes with occasional jokes, and Frisk slowly slumps against him, exhausted. After a moment’s hesitation, he puts his arm around her shoulder.   
“Next show’s Mettaton too...honestly, they’re all gonna be like that. Kinda the only tv star we’ve got down here.” Frisk makes a faint noise of interest, but snuggles into his side, clearly only half-awake. Reflexively, his arm tightens around her. The television runs without either of them paying any attention. Frisk makes little noises as she passes deeper into sleep, clinging to him. Guiltily, Sans shifts a little to examine the flowers more closely. That...can’t be right. He moves her hair out of the way as best he can.   
No.   
They’re growing from her skin.   
She frowns and makes a noise in her sleep, so he strokes her hair softly, soothing her. Carefully, he extricates himself from her grasp and coaxes her into a proper rest, slipping a pillow under her head and covering her with a blanket. She looks so peaceful, but…  
He needs to do some research. Right now.   
___

“RIGHT NOW, DR. ALPHYS!!” He pounds on the door.   
A faint click greets him as the speaker turns on, Alphys’ prerecorded message playing.  
“Visiting hours are between-” a static burst - “NEVER AND NEVER!!” Undyne’s voice cuts into the recording. “SO GLUB OFF!!!”   
Sans scowls at the door. He really didn’t want to take the shortcut in.   
“So much for manners,” he grumbles, and flash steps inside.   
The Lab has seen better days. Technically, that’s been true for years, ever since Gaster...Sans shakes his head. After the Determination Injection debacle, Alphys had gone into seclusion. Nobody was mad at her, and the families were all happy, if a bit...sticky, but Alphys couldn’t forgive herself. Sans had stopped working there after a while - Alphys couldn’t seem to get work done with him around. Too nervous. Having Undyne move in had helped for a while, but Undyne wasn’t exactly stable either.  
The floor beneath his feet seems to be vibrating. They’re using a massive amount of power...but for what? Distantly, he can hear the couple working on something.   
“THIS CABLE IS GARBAGE!”   
“W-well, yeah, that’s where we got a lot of -”   
“NO!! I MEAN IT WON’T REACH THE DOOHICKY!!”   
“The stabilizer?? Oh, oh, dear…”   
“SHOULD THIS BE MAKING THAT NOISE?”   
“NO?? OH GOD CUT IT OFF! UNDYNE!”   
He can hear the distinctive fwing of Undyne materializing and chucking her signature blue spears.  
“NO!!!” Alphys wails, “DESTROYING IT IS NOT THE SAME THING!”   
“IT WAS FASTER!”   
“BUT!! But...the materials...ohh, this is going to take forever to rebuild….at least it was only the stabilizer...”   
“We’re already going to the dump tomorrow, Alphys. Let’s call it quits for the night and watch some anime. I’m sick of this technical shit anyway. Papyrus sent us another romantic spaghetti dinner. Which is way better than those dumb dog treats he used to give me all the time!!” Undyne laughs a little. “We can really do it up fancy. I’ll even watch that kissing show you love so much.”   
“H-he knows we’re dating already, right? He doesn’t have to keep trying to push us together…Wait. You’re agreeing to watch Kissy Mew Mew with me???”   
A heavy sigh can be heard, even from here.   
“Yeah. That’s how much I glubbing love you, babe. I’ll do horrible boring technical shit with you and then watch your romantic history shows. And then I’ll bench press you like a bajillion times! FUHUHUHUHU!”   
The door down the hall opens with a hiss, and Sans presses himself into a dark corner.   
“L-let me change, at least! For d-date night!”  
“Fiiiiiiiiine. But hurry! I wanna do something that doesn’t suck! And then...suck on your FACE!!! FUHUHUHUHU!” Undyne strolls down the corridor, laughing uproariously. She’s out of her signature heavy plate armour, wearing only jeans and a tank top stained with machine oil. Alphys scurries behind her, blushing a deep crimson but beaming.   
Once they’re past, Sans slips into the room they just vacated, surveying the damage. The room is dominated by a complex machine, currently inert but clearly the source of the vibration he felt earlier. He strolls to a makeshift workbench covered in blueprints, thumbing through them. All of the notes are painstakingly translated from Wingdings. 

Shit.


	7. Let's Jam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frisk POV

“GOOD MORNING HUMAN! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE PREPARED YOU BREAKFAST!”  
Frisk sits up and rubs their eyes.   
“Mmmph?”   
A plate of spaghetti is set in her lap.   
“OH! YOUR CLOTHES ARE DRY! PLEASE EAT AND ENJOY MY GLORIOUS HOSPITALITY.” He frowns, considering. “BUT DO IT QUICKLY, PLEASE. I HAVE TO WORK TODAY.”  
Frisk scarfs down the spaghetti as Papyrus watches, thrilled.   
“DO YOU LIKE IT? I AM TRYING SOMETHING NEW WITH THE SPICES! MOSTLY THAT I AM USING THEM!”   
Frisk nods, mouth full, and gives him a thumbs up. Papyrus swoons.  
“GOOD! CLEARLY YOU HAVE EXCELLENT TASTE! AND ARE TASTING EXCELLENT CUISINE! NYEH HEH HEH!!” He clatters upstairs to get ready for work, leaving Frisk alone. They finish the spaghetti, then wash their plate in the sink and put it away. Their clothes are folded neatly on one arm of the couch. They change in the little bathroom, folding San’s “it’s going tibia ok” shirt and sweatpants neatly. The clothes and bedding all gets stacked on the couch, and Frisk stands in the living room awkwardly for a moment, wondering where Sans is. Should they say goodbye? Knock on the door?   
Frisk frowns, thinking hard. What..happened last night? Did they..fall asleep on Sans? Did they drool? Frisk covers their mouth, horrified.   
He was probably avoiding them.   
“HUMAN! YOU LOOK WELL RESTED AND REFRESHED THANKS TO MY GLORIOUS HOSTING! PLEASE LEAVE SO I CAN LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND US!”   
Papyrus bustles them out of the house.   
“BECAUSE I AM VERY GREAT AND YOU ARE A VERY GREAT FRIEND, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO COME BACK ANYTIME!”   
Frisk smiles up at the overbearing skeleton.   
“Thank you, Papyrus. You’re a good friend.”   
He beams at her.   
“THAT IS TRUE, I AM VERY GREAT. BUT...SO ARE YOU. VISIT AGAIN SOON, HUMAN.” He marches off to work, and Frisk resumes their long walk to the Capital. 

_____ 

As they walk, the landscape changes. Frisk can’t take a step without water getting into their boots, and sloshes absolutely everywhere. It’s darker here than in Snowdin, a kind of perpetual twilight lit with glowing blue flowers. They pass through a massive dump at the base of a waterfall, stopping briefly to rummage unsuccessfully for taller boots. The piles of garbage are massive, filled with a mixture of human and monster trash.   
“F-Frisk?”   
They turn.   
“Napstablook! How are you?”   
“Uh...I’m ok...You’re...out of the Ruins...that’s good. I’m glad...I’m just looking for some cds but…” the ghost blushes faintly. “If you want...I live just up the road a little... If you want to visit sometime. Since you’re in the area. No pressure though…”   
Frisk smiles at him.   
“I’d love to visit! We can lie on the ground and feel like garbage together. It’s been too long.”   
The ghost beams.   
“Y-yeah. I’d like that...still. No pressure, ok? I’ll...see you around…” he dims and floats away.   
Frisk’s rummaging is largely unsuccessful, but they do find a cd that they think Napstablook might like. They can vaguely recall him enjoying spooktunes.   
Humming a little, they venture deeper into Waterfall. 

___ 

“H-HI, UNDYNE!”   
Frisk crouches in muddy reeds, listening intently. Papyrus sounds nervous.   
“A-ABOUT THAT HUMAN I SPOTTED EARLIER….I DID FIGHT THEM, BUT...I DIDN’T CAPTURE THEM. THEY...UM. GOT AWAY. YES. I TRIED VERY HARD, UNDYNE, BUT IN THE END...I FAILED.”   
Someone is speaking to him, but Frisk cannot hear their words. Papyrus is extremely loud.   
“WHAT? YOU’RE GOING TO FIGHT THEM YOURSELF? BUT!! YOU DON’T HAVE TO DESTROY THEM!! YOU SEE...YOU SEE…”   
Frisk can practically hear him wilting.   
“I UNDERSTAND. I’LL...HELP YOU HOWEVER I CAN.”   
Frisk gasps despite theirself, and presses a hand to their mouth, horrified. The knight Papyrus was talking to...Undyne... clanks closer, materializing a blue spear and staring intently at the reeds.   
After several long minutes, the knight walks away, and Frisk lets out a long exhale.   
The rise from the reeds and step forward, touching the glittering save point ahead. A feeling of dread hangs over them...but they stay determined.  
The rooms ahead are beautiful, full of streams and pools of clear water supporting massive waterlilies. Glowing mushrooms dot the cavern, and Frisk tweaks them absently, turning their glow off and on. They run into a few aggressive monsters, but only go through two resets getting past them. A little deeper into the cavern, Frisk receives an unexpected call.   
“HELLO! THIS IS PAPYRUS!”   
“How...how did you get this number?”   
“IT WAS EASY! I JUST DIALED EVERY NUMBER SEQUENTIALLY UNTIL I GOT YOURS! NYEH HEH HEH!! SO...WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? I’M...ASKING FOR A FRIEND. SHE THOUGHT SHE SAW YOU WEARING FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR. IS THAT TRUE? ARE YOU STILL WEARING THOSE YELLOW FLOWERS?”   
Frisk touches a flower blooming uncomfortably close to their right eye.   
“Yes.”   
“SO YOU ARE WEARING YELLOW FLOWERS IN YOUR HAIR! GOT IT! WINK WINK!!! HAVE A NICE DAY!” He hangs up abruptly.   
Frisk shakes their head and continues onward. The ceiling is studded with twinkling stones...they’re afraid of facing Undyne, afraid of the flowers creeping across their body with every Reset...but the beauty of this place and the memory of their friends fills them with determination.

____ 

 

“Oh, uh...you really came. I wasn’t expecting that. Sorry. Uh. Please come in.” Napstablook ushers Frisk inside. “It’s not much, but please make yourself at home. I, uh, got you something. A long time ago. I remembered how you always enjoyed playing ghost music with me…? Or...you seemed to...and I...well…” He drifts uncertainly toward a side room. “I’ve been keeping it in the studio. If you don’t want it I understand….”   
Frisk smiles reassuringly at Napstablook and walks into his recording space. The little room is clearly the best loved space in the house, bereft of the otherwise ubiquitous layer of dust. A desk seems to be bowing a little under the weight of Napstablooks’ equipment - a turntable and a computer hooked to a massive board covered in dials and switches. A small stool next to a microphone faces the desk, but in the corner...a beautiful electric guitar rests in front of a wall almost entirely covered in a haphazard stack of speakers.   
“Mettaton gives me their old speakers whenever they get new ones...the guitar is yours..if you want it…”   
Frisk beams at Napstablook.   
“Oh, Blooky,” they says fondly. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” They lift the guitar from its stand, running reverent hands over the strings. Frisk looks up at him, tears shining in their eyes. “It’s beautiful.”   
Napstablook blushes a deep blue.   
“It’s, uh….a real guitar. A solid one. And I got spider cider….just in case..because it wouldn’t go bad if you didn’t come. So we could...jam sometime...if you wanted.” He drifts over to his turntable. “No pressure. I just...couldn’t bring you presents for your birthdays, because I’m only a ghost, and the Ruins were sealed...but…” he trails into silence as Frisk plucks the strings experimentally.   
“Blooky?”   
“Uh...yeah?”   
“Let’s jam.”   
The little ghost beams, drifting over to his turntables.   
“Oh! O-okay… just...plug into the amp behind you...I’ll record and we can remix it later...if you want…”   
Frisk smiles encouragingly at him and does as he bids, looping the guitar strap over their shoulder. It’s a gorgeous shade of blue, with embroidered bones, and matches the guitar almost perfectly. Blue, with yellow pickups and silver strings. Playing it hurts more than the ghost guitar- they’ll need to develop callus to play as long as they used to comfortably, but the solidity in their hands is a comfort. Frisk perches on a stool, takes a deep breath, and begins to play. Soon they’re lost in the music, notes rising from somewhere deep inside, unbidden. A weight they didn’t know they felt begins to lessen, and they play harder and harder, faster and faster, until….  
Everything goes dark.

“F-Frisk? Are you o-ok? Frisk? Ooooooooooooh nooooooooooo….” Ghostly tears fall on Frisk’s face from above, rousing them. “Frisk! Are...you ok? You...your….something weird happened.”   
Frisk sits up painfully. Somehow they ended up on the floor, cradling their new guitar.   
“I’m...fine, Blooky. Sorry. I must have passed out or something.”   
“You...played a song I didn’t know... really...enthusiastically? and...and your...your SOUL came out…” Napstablook is staring at them, distraught, “B-but I didn’t initiate a fight or anything, I swear, it j-just happened…I w-would never…”   
Frisk shakes their head.   
“I’m okay, Blooky. I probably just pushed too hard. Let’s...take a break. Drink some of that cider, maybe? And then we can lie on the ground and feel like garbage for a while.”   
He nods.   
“Oh...okay.”   
The wander into the main room and Frisk pops the CD they found into the player.   
“It’s not nearly as nice as your gift, but I found this when i was looking through the garbage and i thought you might like it.”   
Napstablook looks stunned.   
“Th-That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me...you’re such a good friend…”   
Frisk smiles affectionately at him and turns on the music, laying down on the floor.   
Napstablook lays beside them, and together they let the world drift away.   
“Uh, Frisk? Can I….Can I ask...a favor?”  
“Of course, Blooky. Anything.” Frisk lies motionless on the floor next to the shy little ghost, their oldest friend.   
“I, uh….. wanted to know if it was okay if... I recorded some sessions? You...you’re really good, and...well…I’m trying some new stuff…I wanted to mix in some of your riffs...”  
“Sure! I don’t mind, Blooky.”   
“Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother…”   
“I’m sure. Really really. Pinky swear and everything.”   
“That makes me...really happy…” He’s quiet for a long time, then, “Hey Frisk?”   
“Yeah, Blooky?”   
“Thank you...for being my friend.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My editor is super busy but I don't want to wait to release stuff, so here's another chapter. Apologies for any bugs. Thanks for all the support so far!! It means a lot to me <3

Sans doesn’t bother to look up from his research.   
“I-I thought… I thought you might be here.” Her voice is very quiet.   
“What gave it away?”   
Alphys shuffles her feet.   
“Uh...my lab is cleaner. Just a little. And the wiring didn’t catch fire the last time we ran a systems check. That...hasn’t happened before.”   
“Yeah, well. Didn’t mean to violate any bone-daries, but I got work to do.” Sans winks at her over his shoulder with the delivery of the joke, but his heart isn’t in it.   
Alphys hovers in the doorway, deeply uncomfortable.   
“W-why are you here, Sans? N-not that I don’t- “   
“A friend of mine is...sick. Maybe. I dunno.” He shrugs, flipping through papers. “What did you do with the anomaly reports?”   
“A-ANOMALY??” she squeaks, “I...I...uhhhhhhh….” She shuffles her feet. “They’re in the monitor room. I...picked it back up when I realized there was a human travelling through the Underground again.”   
“Show me.”   
Of course Alphys is watching her. Alphys watches everyone.  
The dinosaur keeps shooting nervous, hopeful glances at him over her shoulder as they walk down the hall. This...this is why he quit. Alphys knows too much. Enough to have expectations.   
It’s exhausting.   
The monitor room is a trainwreck. Papers and discarded snacks litter every available surface…the monitors flicker, casting uncertain light over the room. Frisk is on every screen, walking, talking, laughing.   
Alphys moves a half-empty cup of noodles and thumbs through the stack of papers underneath.   
“O-okay, here’s what I can tell so far. No combat whatsoever. No EXP. No LOVE. Um. They did spend four hours antagonizing the Mad Dummy until it fused to its body? And then hugged it. Um. It looks like they visit Napstablook a lot. Haven’t made it to Undyne yet. They keep running away from her.” Alphys looks conflicted. “Undyne is really, REALLY going after them, so...she’s not allowed to know about the monitoring thing. It seems like cheating. Um. I did notice something weird...it didn’t happen with the other humans.”   
Sans just stares at the screens. Frisk is running away from Undyne, back toward Snowdin..but she’s smiling. Alphys keeps talking.   
“They have a weird reaction to SAVE points…” she changes the picture on one of the smaller screens, pointing. “Watch.”   
Onscreen, Frisk touches a glowing save point, and the flowers on their head triple in number.   
Alphys rewinds, and then slows down the footage.   
One second, Frisk has a modest spray of flowers over one ear. The next second, the flowers obscure her eye.   
Alphys turns to look at Sans.   
“Th-that’s weird, right?”   
Sans nods slowly.   
“Yeah.”   
“You...you’re friends with her, right? Do you think you could…?”   
He shakes his head, chest tight.   
“I dunno...she’s been acting weird. Went on a date with Paps.”   
Alphys looks heartbroken, and a little...angry?   
“No way! That ship is garbage!! Uh.” She blushes brilliantly. “I mean. Your brother is great! But...maybe you could talk to her? The only other person they talk to is Napstablook, and I don’t know him well enough to ask a favor like that...or to leave the Lab…but I’d like to run some tests...” She wrings her hands.   
Sans shoves his hands into his pockets.   
“I’ll look into it.” He looks at Alphys, trying to smooth his expression into something reassuring. “Thanks, Alph. I’ll be back.” He takes his short cut out, and is halfway to Napstablook’s house before he remembers how much she hates flash steps.   
He resolves to do something hilarious near one of her cameras later, in lieu of apologies. 

___ 

“BROTHER!!! LOOK AT WHAT I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE RECEIVED!” the excitable chef is waving an envelope in the air. “MY FIRST EVER FANMAIL! I HAVE FANS!! JUST LIKE METATTON! LOOOOOOK!!!” He’s stamping around the house, barely able to contain himself.   
“Bro. I told you people would recognize your greatness someday. Lemme see?”   
“IT CAME WITH A GIFT,” Papyrus says. “A SHINY DISK!” He hands a letter in a yellow envelope and a CD over. Sans smiles up at his little brother.   
“That’s a cd, bro. We should listen to it.”   
Papyrus swoons.   
“A CD! A MUSICAL TRIBUTE TO MY GREATNESS! THIS IS A DREAM COME TRUE!”   
Sans pops the cd in their rickety player, unfolding the letter. Through the tinny speakers, a beautiful cover of Papyrus’s FIGHT music plays.   
“Dear Papyrus,” Sans reads aloud. “I wanted you to know that you are the best cook in all of the Underground. Your spaghetti saved my life. Your use of spices is ingenious, and I know every bite is cooked with the care and love of a true visionary. Please accept this small token of my appreciation. Sincerely, your biggest fan.” Sans looks up, beaming. “Paps, we should frame this.”   
Papyrus nods vigourously, twirling to the beat of his signature music.   
“YES! ONE DAY PEOPLE WILL ASK TO SEE IT! MY HUMBLE BEGINNING!”   
Sans nods.   
“I’ll take care of it for ya. Least I can do, mister big-shot.” He wanders out of the house, headed to temmie village. They should be able to frame something. 

Papyrus has only fought two people in his life, and Undyne doesn’t strike him as the type to write fanmail. Sans shakes his head, conflicting feelings roiling in his bones.  
Frisk was really hung up on his brother. She said she was happy she and Paps were only friends, but…  
Maybe she just wanted Papyrus to be happy. That’s what he wanted, after all. But…  
Sans sighs.   
Jealousy. Better to come to terms with it fast, and bury it faster. He had known the kid for years. They damn near grew up together...sort of. Through a door.   
He was working too hard, thinking too hard. Getting too invested.   
That’s how you get hurt.   
He takes a shortcut to Temmie village. Run the errand for Paps, then drinks at Grillby’s. Then a nap. That’ll get his head straight again. It’s a good plan. 

\----

Too bad it didn’t work, Sans reflects. Five bottles of ketchup later, and he’s sprawled out in his room, piss drunk. Drink number one had eased the irritation of dealing with Temmie, bless her incredibly annoying heart. Drink number two was just delicious. Number three had him reviewing the night on the couch, however, so drink number four was supposed to drown that out… and just made it worse. Drink number five was so he’d pass the fuck out instead of tracking Frisk down. He under no circumstances should track her down while intoxicated.   
Definitely not.   
He rolls over.   
He’s just so...bonely without her.   
A thought occurs to him.   
Surely...checking on her was okay. Alphys was -   
He was in the lab before he finished the thought, but miscalculated the flash step, crashing against a wall in a crackle of blue light. Alphys lets out a little shriek of surprise.   
“OH! Oh my god, Sans. You have to stop that. At least...at least call ahead?”   
Sans gets to his feet, rubbing his aching skull.   
“No phone,” he says apologetically. “Got rid of it when Paps kept asking me for work updates.”  
Alphys sighs.   
“It’s fine. I wanted to show you something anyway.” She types a password, and the main screen changes to display a recording. “Just...don’t tell Undyne you saw this. Ever.”   
They stare at the screen together, transfixed. Eventually, Sans reaches out a hand and turns off the monitor, a tear falling unheeded from his eyesocket.   
Alphys hands him a tissue.   
“You should sober up and go find her,” she says simply, but Sans is already gone.


	9. Chapter 9

“You know what the definition of insanity is, right?” Flowey is back, in brilliant contrast to the echo flowers around him. “It’s doing the same thing, over and over, and expecting something different to happen.” He smiles, condescending and bitter. “So congradulations. You’re not just dumb. You’re insane.”  
Frisk shakes their head mutely, and Flowey leans forward, frustrated and aggressive. “How many resets are you going to waste on her, anyway? She’s just a big fish in a tin can! Kill her! It wouldn’t even be hard...not if you actually tried, anyway. Then you can take the key to the Hotland Gate and get going.”  
“Could do it. Won’t. Don’t want to.”  
“You’ll be blind soon.”  
“Doesn’t matter.”  
“How does that not matter? How will you get to the Barrier if you can’t see the path? How will you get past other monsters? Are you going to SMILE at them until they let you go? Give them a big hug and a kiss? It’s never going to work. In this world...it’s kill or be killed.”  
Frisk shakes their head again, and the little flower rattles its leaves in rage.  
“You’re so, so unbelieveably dumb. Why. Why are you like this.Why would you reset just to waste your time like this? UGH! I’ll be watching Undyne tear you to pieces. Again. Have fun being useless.”  
He retreats into the ground, too impatient to hear Frisk’s reply. 

Frisk’s phone rings. Papyrus again. He sounds...stressed.  
“HUMAN! EARLIER, WHEN YOU SAID YOU WERE WEARING THE YELLOW FLOWERS...YOU KNEW I WAS ASKING BECAUSE UNDYNE IS LOOKING FOR YOU, RIGHT? WHICH IS WHY YOU TOLD ME A FIB! I KNEW THAT YOU WOULD, BECAUSE YOU ARE SO SMART! SO I TOLD HER TO LOOK FOR A HUMAN WEARING YELLOW FLOWERS IN THEIR HAIR. THAT WAY...I DON’T HAVE TO BETRAY ANYONE! TRULY I AM A GREAT AND LOYAL FRIEND, AND YOU ARE VERY CLEVER, AND EVERYTHING IS GREAT!” He coughs awkwardly. “SO. GOOD LUCK! ALSO… HAVE YOU SEEN SANS? HE...DIDN’T COME HOME LAST NIGHT. AND HE WAS NOT AT HIS STATIONS.”  
“I haven’t seen him, Papyrus. I’m sorry. If I do, I’ll let him know you’re worried about him.”  
“WORRIED? ME?” He forces a cackle. “I AM NOT WORRIED! I AM SURE HE IS JUST SLACKING OFF SOMEWHERE, AS USUAL.”  
“If I see him, I’ll let you know.”  
“THANK YOU, HUMAN.” Papyrus hangs up.  
If Sans didn’t come home...he must be really upset. Frisk chews their lip. Sleeping in sentry stations was probably best until they could make amends for the awkwardness of the time they crashed on the couch. Sans is one of their best and oldest friends...surely they can work out whatever is bothering him.  
Probably.

_____

“STOP!! GLUBBING!! DODGING!!!!!! AREN'T YOU BLIND??? HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS, YOU LITTLE BRAT??”  
Frisk remembers the next barrage and sidesteps it neatly. Undyne shrieks in incoherent rage.  
“I TRAINED FOR YEARS! YEARS!!! AND I CAN'T EVEN HIT ONE. GLUBBING. HUMAN!!!! HOLD STILL! YOU'RE RUINING EVERYTHING!! FOR ALL OF US!”  
“I really don't want to fight, Undyne!” It feels like they've been fighting Undyne for years. Over a dozen resets for Undyne alone... It's getting harder to keep track.  
It's getting harder to care.  
And what will you do when you meet a relentless killer? You'll die and you’ll die and you'll die and you'll die.  
Frisk shakes their head, catching a spear in the torso for their moment of distraction. They rip it out, consider flinging it back, before casting it aside. They won't hurt Undyne. They won’t.  
They sidestep another attack.  
“NOT BAD! BUT YOU’LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!”  
No EXP. No LOVE.  
Just Frisk.  
They shake out their limbs. Something Flowey had said….  
A deep breath. They don’t have much HP left. Maybe two more spears. If they’re lucky.  
“FUHUHUHUHU!! GETTING TIRED, BRAT?? JUST GIVE UP!!”  
Frisk shakes their head.  
“FINE!!” From the sound of it, Undyne is hyperventilating. “TAKE THIS!!” She flings a barrage of spears, stamping the ground in her rage.  
Frisk dodges each one neatly - they’ve made it this far before- but runs forward at the same time. Jump, jump, duck, duck, left, right, left, right and… they grunt in unexpected pain.  
“You got real close, human. But not close enough.” Undyne’s spear is rammed through their gut, sticking out of their back. This close, the smell of angry fish is overwhelming. Frisk reaches forward, takes a step further down the spear.  
“What. What are you doing.” Undyne is close enough to touch.  
“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Frisk whispers, and pulls a horrified Undyne into a hug.  
Color rushes into the world as the knight abruptly loses the will to fight.  
“I…you...I….” She coughs, and the spear disintigrates. “Take this.” She shoves a monster candy and a heavy key into Frisk’s hands, then flees. 

The walk back to Napstablook’s house is very long...but they need to rest, and rebuild their inventory. They’re not ready to face Hotland yet. Especially not blind. That...doesn’t bear thinking about. Not yet. And besides… Blooky really loves their jam sessions. Enough resets have passed Frisk simply counts the steps and navigates by feel. It’s slow, and they fall down in a few streams and puddles, but nobody tries to fight them, or even talk to them. 

They mistakenly knock on the door of the house beside Napstablook’s for ten minutes before the little ghost finally drifts out to investigate.  
“H-hey...oh! Frisk! What...are you doing? Nobody lives there anymore….”  
Frisk sighs.  
“This is the wrong house, isn’t it.”  
“Uh...well, it’s not my house….? If that’s what you mean….”  
“Sorry, Blooky.” Frisk touches their own face ruefully. “I’m having some trouble today. May I come in?”  
“S-sure! Uh...this way… a few more steps...watch out for the door…” he guides her inside as best he can. “You...look ...um, that is to say….uh…”  
“I fought Undyne, Blooky. I’m okay, and she’s okay, I just...need to rest for a bit. And maybe borrow your bathroom? If you have one.”  
“Y-yeah. It’s all yours...I don’t use it...I can call Woshua to help with your clothes...if you want….I mean, you look great! I just…” He sounds distressed.  
Frisk smiles gratefully.  
“I know what you mean, Napstablook. I’d appreciate getting cleaned up. I’m sure I look pretty rough.”  
“Y-yeah….the bathroom is over here...you might have to force the door a little, it’s rusty…oooooh…”  
Frisk forces the door open after a couple tries.  
The water in the taps is freezing, but they find a dusty bar of soap and scrub down as quickly as possible. They don’t have any spare clothes, and they lost their jacket running from Undyne in the reeds, so Frisk washes their underthings by hand and puts them back on, still damp.  
“Blooky?” They call through the door.  
“Y-yeah?”  
“I...don’t have any spare clothes.” They didn’t really think this through beyond a powerful desire to not be covered in blood and filth anymore.  
“O-oh! I….think I have an old shirt you can wear...i got it to support a local band...but I can’t wear it…” A long silence, then, “I found it...it’s right outside the bathroom door. Woshua cleaned your things, but they’re still really wet...they’re hanging on a line outside.”  
Frisk cracks the door and shimmies into the shirt. It’s just long enough to preserve their modesty, but with Blooky, it’s pretty irrelevant. They sigh in relief.  
“I feel loads better, Blooky. Thank you.”  
“A-anytime, Frisk. Though...I hope you don’t get hurt t-too often…”  
“Me too.” Frisk smiles, a trifle sadly. “Wanna jam while we wait for my things to dry?”

 

___ 

“W-wow, Frisk. You’re getting really good….”  
Frisk smiles in Napstablook’s direction.  
“Gotta keep up with you somehow,” they quip. Really, they just practiced every reset. It’s hell on their hands, because the callus resets along with their injuries, but there are worse things. Now that the threat of multiple spear wounds is finally gone, Frisk really just wants to let off some steam. “So what do you want to play today, Blooky?”  
“Oh, uh...whatever you want, I guess? You seem like you had a long day….” a pause. “Oh, I shrugged. Sorry.”  
“It’s okay, Blooky. I’m getting used to it too.”  
“Do...do you want to talk about...what happened?”  
Frisk shakes their head.  
“Doesn’t matter. I’m alive and safe, and thanks to you and Woshua, I’m even clean and dry. Can’t ask for more than that.”  
“I’m sorry about your jacket….Are you cold? I can’t really feel the cold...because I’m a ghost…”  
Frisk shakes their head.  
“Not a big deal. Once my sweater dries I’ve got that.”  
“As long as you’re sure…”  
Frisk nods firmly.  
“Blooky, you’ve already done so much for me. All I want is to do friend stuff for a while, ok? I promise. Please don’t worry for me.”  
“Ooookaay…” the little ghost sounds uncertain, but the clicking of the switchboard means he’s abandoned the subject. “I...plugged you into the new amp. Well... New to us. Uh...delay is on the far right, then fuzz, wah, volume, looper. Go ahead and...feel around I guess?”  
“Do we really need the looper? I’ve got you.” Frisk feels around experimentally, getting used to the placement of the pedals.  
“Uh, no... but...I don’t have feet...so i thought I would let you play with it...if you wanted.”  
Frisk smiles.  
“Napstablook, you are too precious. Let’s...let’s try to finish number nine.”  
“Uh, are you sure? Last time…”  
Last time they passed out, but that was probably exhaustion.  
Probably.  
“Yeah.” Determination settles in their chest. That song...is important somehow. And they made so much progress today. If they can put the strange feelings that song carries to bed too...well, maybe they could sleep soundly tonight. Frisk is so tired of nightmares. “Yeah. I’m sure, Blooky.”  
“Okay, uh...we’re recording.” He sounds uncomfortable, but Frisk can hear him working on his sound board anyway. “Feel free to start whenever you want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: the sequence of movements Frisk uses to defeat Undyne is the Konami code, with a word and embrace instead of B A START at the end.


	10. I Didn't

Sans walks among the Echo flowers, listening to all the different monster wishes and secrets. It’s peaceful here. He needs a change of pace. Watching Frisk confront Undyne on those monitors in the Lab...he can’t get it out of his head.   
“I didn’t….” whispers a flower. Another two steps.   
“I’ll be watching Undyne tear you apart.” He freezes. This was not the change of pace he was expecting. He takes another two steps to the next flower.  
“Why would you reset just to waste your time like this…”  
“It’s kill or be killed...”   
“Doesn’t matter.”   
“You’ll be blind soon...”  
“Could do it. Don’t want to.”  
“Kill her and move on…”   
“You’re not just dumb, you’re insane.”  
Sans frowns, turns around, retraces his steps. When he gets back to where the strange conversation began, his breath hitches in his chest. He paces among the flowers for what feels like an eternity, committing the whispers to memory, until a familiar melody reaches his ear, carried on the wind.   
Sans goes perfectly still.  
Nobody...nobody should know that song. He’s never taught it to anyone. He’s never bothered to fight anyone! He never had to.  
He follows the music to its source, stalking through Waterfall, profoundly unsettled and more than a little pissed off.   
That was HIS song!   
Soon, he comes to Napstablook’s house. The lights are all on, and music is playing so loud he can see the walls vibrating. The door is ajar, so he lets himself in. Eyelights dark, he mentally rehearses how to confront Napstablook without scaring him off...but what he sees in the practice studio stops him cold.   
Frisk.   
Napstablook is doing something with his computer and a bunch of switches and dials, but Frisk…she’s barely dressed, just in an oversize shirt, clutching a bright blue guitar. It has a bone print strap. The last lingering notes from her guitar hang in the air as she presses a pedal with one foot.  
“Uh...I think we got it,” Napstablook tells her. “So that's everything but lead guitar. Do you, uh...do you need to stop? I don’t want...you to get...uh...I want you to be ok...”   
Frisk shakes her head, shedding petals. There are so many flowers in her hair. It looks like she’s wearing a crown of them.   
“I have to get it out, Blooky. We’re making good progress. Play the rest of it behind me.”   
The ghost nods.   
“Start whenever you’re ready. I’ll, uh, drop the other recordings behind you after that. I’m, uh..going to turn on the camera too, ok? Just in case the... thing happens again.”   
Frisk doesn’t respond, head already bobbing to a rhythm only she can hear.   
Her fingers dance on the strings, and Sans’ battle song fills the house. Frisk’s notes are perfect, an unexpected metal cover of his song… but while her hands move perfectly, the rest of her body seems to jerk and spasm erratically as she plays.  
By now, the sick, heavy feeling in his gut is almost familiar. Expected. Something is so very, very wrong here. Her movements remind him of something. A dream he had once.   
A nightmare. 

Tears are rolling down Frisk’s face, but they don’t stop playing. The golden flowers in their hair begin to glow faintly, and he can see

Her SOUL emerges, without a fight. Her bright red heart, upside down, like all human hearts...

Turning... right side up. 

“FRISK!” 

Her head whips to face him, and the song ends with a high, keening note as her SOUL abruptly snaps back into her chest. The guitar falls from her fingers as she collapses to the ground.  
“F-Frisk???” The ghostly musician sounds scared.  
Sans is already by her side, much to Napstablooks’ shock.   
“Sweetheart? Sweetheart, come back to me. Wake up.” He cradles her gently, pulling the guitar off her and setting it aside. “Sweetie. Frisk, Frisk, you can’t do this.” He looks accusingly at Napstablook, who pales almost to nothing. “W h a t h a p p e n e d “   
“W-w-w-we were just jamming...they had a... new song we were working on...they heard it in a dream...i shouldn’t have let them play it again, but they looked so sad after Undyne i couldn’t say no...It never flipped like that before...” Napstablook is sobbing “noooooo…. Noooo, im the worst friend, i got them hurt, i should have stopped them, oh noooooo…..”   
Sans is patting Frisk desperately, pulling her tight to himself. He tries to check her eyes, to open them, but there are only golden flowers.   
“C’mon, you gotta wake up. Don’t do this to me. Frisk, Frisk, baby, please…” 

“Ugh..my head...S-sans?” His breath catches, and the lights flicker back in his eyes. She’s not dead. “What... are you...doing here?” Her voice is so weak.  
“Heh, I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart. You scared me and Blooky here.” He loosens his grip a little and strokes her hair, trying to regain his composure. To reassure her. She’s soaked with sweat. Where...where are her eyes? Did the ranunculae creep so far already? He only left her for a day and a half! “What happened? What can I do to help?”   
She moans.   
“I...went to the …” she swallows hard. “Playing helps. Blooky helps. Just trying to get it out. But this time I...saw something. Had...” her voice fades to a whisper. “A bad time.”   
Profound horror settles over him like a blanket, and he can feel his lights go out.   
“I...didn’t quite catch that. Say it again?”   
She shakes her head mutely, shuddering.   
Is she...afraid of him?  
Her hand clutches at his jacket.   
“Sans…?”   
“Yeah, sweetheart?” He can’t stop himself.   
“Do you think...even the worst person can change? If they try?” Her voice is so faint.   
“Yes. Absolutely.”   
She sighs, relaxing into him a little. A tear rolls down her cheek.   
“That’s...good. I...I’m sorry. For...everything.”   
He shakes his head, then realizes she can’t see him.   
“Okay, sweetheart, I think it’s time to take you home.” He looks at the ghost hovering nearby, still crying quietly. “Napstablook, I’m going to take Frisk home.” He speaks calmly and clearly, struggling to sound reassuring. “She’ll be ok, but I think she needs to rest. Ok? I’ll bring her back to visit once she feels a little better. You can maybe...play a different song.”   
The ghost nods, sniffling a little.   
Sans picks Frisk up. She’s so light… A flash of blue light, and they’re gone. 

___ 

Gently, he lays her on his bed.   
“Heh. Flower you feeling, sweetheart?”   
She feels around, confused.   
“W-what happened? Where are we?”   
“We’re...at my place. As to the other...I was hopin’ you could tell me. Once you’re feeling better.” He lays a hand on her forehead. She’s cold, and chuckles bitterly as he covers her in blankets.   
“I...remembered something. From a long time ago. Something I wanted to forget.”   
Sans sits next to her on the bed, and she turns her face away.   
“Wanna tell me about it?” he asks quietly. “Might help.”   
She chuckles again, still turned away.  
“You don’t remember? I guess that makes sense…”   
She’s not making any sense, but the pit in his stomach is growing.   
“How about you rattle my memory? I’m kind of a bone-head. It’s tibia expected that I’d forget some stuff now and again.” He tries to lighten the mood, but it’s not working. A suppressed sob escapes her, and he rests a hand on her shoulder. She’s shaking.   
“I ruined everything. I…” She sits up, turns toward him. His hand falls, curling uselessly in his lap. “I can’t...describe…” she hugs herself tight, as though she’ll fly apart if she lets go. “All I know is...seeing what comes next...I can’t afford not to care anymore.”   
He can feel his eyelights go out again. She continues, each word dropping into place with a horrible clarity.   
“Listen. I know you didn’t answer me before, but...somewhere in there. I can feel it. There’s a glimmer of a good person inside of you. The memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing. The memory of someone who, in another time, might even have been…” she takes a shuddering breath, and continues to recite those gutwrenchingly familiar words. “A friend? C’mon, buddy. Do you remember me? Please...if you’re listening...let’s forget all this, okay?” Tears are rolling down her face. “Just lay down your weapon, and...well. My job will be a lot easier.” Her voice drops to a rough whisper. “You’re sparing me? Buddy. Pal. I know how hard it must be...to make that choice. I want you to know...I won’t let it go to waste. Buddy...c’mere. If…” she’s drawing blood, her nails are digging into her own arms so hard, “If we’re really friends...you won’t come back.” 

Sans can’t move. He thought...it was a bad dream. He wanted it to be a nightmare. Frisk is shaking, breathless, teeth clenched so hard he can hear them creak. She’s can’t see him, can’t see the horror on his face.   
He...remembers. He remembers killing her, murdering her to stop her genocidal march through the Underground. 

He must’ve been silent too long, struggling to process, because she finally speaks again.   
“I didn’t mean to come back, Sans.” Her voice breaks. “I don’t know why I’m here. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I...for so long I didn’t remember… and then I didn’t want it to be true but I died so much and every time I remembered a little more and I…”   
Sans reaches out, folds her into his arms. She flinches at first, then goes limp, helpless in the face of an unbearable sorrow.   
“Kid. There’s this...place in the Ruins. Where you first fell. The ground is all covered in…” he touches her hair, “yellow flowers, just like yours. I found some research...about the demon that comes when you call its name. The demon that was riding you, feeding on your determination. Pushing you to...do what you did. After you laid down your knife, and I…” he sighs, unable to finish the sentence. It’s too awful. “You never came back. For years. I realized...you weren’t going to. Ever. Because of what I said. Because...in the end...you were stronger than it was.” He holds her tighter, hoping she can hear him. “I used to go to the flowers there and talk to you. The memory of you, before things...went dark. Alphys got sick of it. Said…” he chuckles, “Said she hated tragic stories. So we found a way…” he swallows hard. “To bring you back. To bring everyone back. One last chance. But I think...it went wrong, Frisk.” His shirt is wet, stained with her tears and snot. He stokes her hair soothingly. “Alphys doesn’t remember the other timelines, but she does know about your...condition, and wants to run some tests. I think it might be a good idea.”   
Frisk sniffles.   
“Sans..how can I talk to them, knowing what I’ve done? How can you... bear to touch me?”   
He wishes she had eyes to see, so he could hold her face and make her understand. To meet a gaze without hate.   
“Because that’s not who you are, Frisk. I know… a lot about making bad choices. About regret. But you proved you wanted to be something more. And you prove it again every day, with every breath. I could see… that thing in you, before. I can see it whispering to you still. But having darkness inside us doesn’t make us bad. It’s what we do that matters. And you made the choice to stop, and to repent. Frisk… you’re bringing us hope. How can anyone look at what you’ve done, who you are, and not love you?”   
She shivers, and he shakes her a little, very gently.   
“Hey. I’m serious, kid. You’ve got good in you. In the end...you did the right thing, even though it was hard. The hardest thing...we ever did. And...I worked really hard to give us one last shot. So… try to have as much faith in yourself as I do, ok?”


	11. Not A Kid Anymore

Frisk wakes in an unfamiliar room, tangled in bedsheets. They’re cold, and their head throbs with a dull, relentless ache.  
“Hey. sleep ok?”  
“Sans?”  
Sans is here. Sans is here and they….relief washes over them. Sans remembers. Sans remembers, and doesn’t hate them.  
“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart. How’re you feeling?”  
Frisk clutches their head.  
“Urgh.”  
“Yeah, I figured. Last night was pretty...rough. Drink this.” He presses a glass into their hands, and Frisk gulps greedily at the liquid. It tastes...strange. Bitter at first, with a cloying aftertaste.  
“Woah, slow down. Works better if you sip it. It’s an old family remedy.”  
Frisk takes delicate sips, sighing in relief as magic washes through them. Slowly, the aches and pains melt away. Sans sits on the bed next to her, taking the empty cup. “Feel better?” he asks.  
Frisk nods.  
“Good.” He ruffles their hair. “Listen. I know...we unpacked some heavy stuff. But I... care about you. I want to make that...very clear. So don’t run off and get any more hurt, ok? We’ve got a fresh start. We’ve got years of bad jokes behind and ahead of us. We’re going to see the Surface someday. Together. But not if you keep hugging spears.”  
He knew about that?  
“Yeah, I know about that. You’re...really something else, kiddo.” He sounds...admiring. That can’t be right. “So I’m going to be walking you through Hotland. But not today. Or tomorrow. For now, you’re on bed rest. I...uh, already got your stuff from Napstablook’s house. I hope that’s okay. I just...thought you might want pants.”  
Oh no. They forgot they’re...barely dressed. Blooky was one thing- he was a precious little ace ghost- but Sans...Frisk can feel their cheeks heating up.  
“Heh. Yeah. I already told Paps about you staying too, and he’s really excited. So no sneaking out, got it? Your things are at the end of the bed. I’ll step out to give you some privacy, so come out whenever you’re ready.”  
Frisk nods mutely, cheeks burning.  
They listen for the click of the door closing, then feel around for their clothes. Which room is this? Is this Sans’ bed? Last night, they talked, and then...they must have passed out. And Sans was there when they woke up...was he waiting for them to wake?  
Their sweater is warm and dry, comforting. Toriel once said it was like wearing a security blanket, having a favorite sweater. Frisk fingercombs their hair awkwardly and takes a deep breath. There's a persistent smell in here, comforting and dry, like cedar, or the incense Toriel burned in the fireplace sometimes... It's comforting, but also makes their heart race. Frisk presses their hands to their cheeks, willing their pulse to slow.  
Everything is fine. Everything will be fine.  
Frisk folds the shirt they were wearing previously and pauses. Which direction was the door in, again?  
“Oops.” They should have paid more attention.  
A knock at the door.  
“Knock knock.”  
They smile.  
“Who’s there?”  
“Flower.”  
“Flower who?”  
“Flower you doin, sweetheart? You all set in there?”  
Frisk chuckles.  
“Yeah, I just… dunno where the door is, sorry.”  
The door clicks open and he's at their side before they can draw a breath. Gently, he guides them by the elbow.  
“I've got ya. My room is kind of a mess, sorry. Uh. You look a little flushed. Are you good to walk?”  
Frisk nods, cheeks flaming, and takes a step to prove it...firmly planting their foot on a discarded bottle and nearly faceplanting. Sans catches them.  
“Heh, oops. My bad. I got it.” He picks them up and carries them downstairs, his magic crackling harmlessly over them both.  
This is easily the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened.  
Sans uses magic to help set them down on the couch. “Paps will be home soon. I think he wanted to make you get well spaghetti. Boils the noodles in well water. Get it?” He chuckles and settles down beside them. “My bro is so cool. I can see...Why you like him so much.”  
Frisk frowns. What did he say?  
“Ya know...He'd probably go out with you again, if you asked. He really cares about you.” His tone is casual, but Frisk can feel a strange tension in the air.  
“W-why would I do that?” They ask incredulously. “Then we'd have to go on another date! That would be terrible.” They laugh. “Oh man. No. No way. Nope.” They chuckle again, just as Papyrus comes crashing through the door.  
“Speaking of…” Sans murmurs.  
“HUMAN!!! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HERE TO NURSE YOU BACK TO HEALTH!” Papyrus bustles into the kitchen. “I WILL MAKE YOU DELIGHTFUL SPAGHETTI, AND GIVE YOU MANY BLANKETS, AND YOU CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT. AS LONG AS IT IS METTATON. I LOVE THAT GUY.” He begins banging around, cooking and singing off key at incredible volume.  
“Hey.” Sans’ voice is low. “You can nap in my room if you’d rather. It’s...quieter.”  
Frisk winces at a particularly loud crash.  
“I don’t want to impose…”  
Sans takes their hand in a cool, dry grip. His bones aren’t rough, like Frisk expected.  
“‘C’mon,” he says quietly. He tows them upstairs, talking them through the steps and kicking obstacles out of the way. He steers them to a seat on the bed, but doesn’t sit. Frisk tilts their head in confusion.  
“Aren’t...you going to sit too?” they ask.  
“Uh, yeah.” He sounds awkward, and the bed creaks as little as he settles beside her.  
“Sans?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Thanks. For everything.” Frisk’s hand rests on the comforter between them. “I want...to do things right this time.”  
“Heh. You’re doing pretty great so far, kiddo.”  
They chuckle.  
“I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”  
His reply is very soft.  
“I know.”  
“I, uh, did want to mention something…”  
“Yeah?”  
“I thought I heard you say...um. How do I say this. I’m...nonbinary? I’m not...a girl, really. Or a boy. So I use...they pronouns. So..”  
“Oh man, I’m sorry. I never even thought-” He sounds so apologetic as their words trip over each other.  
“I didn’t mention it before I just-”  
“I feel like such a bonehead-”  
“Noooo I just couldn’t think of a good way to bring it up and-” They didn’t want him to feel bad, they just wanted him to know.  
“No, it’s important, and I’m glad you told me.” His hand grazes theirs hesitantly, and Frisk catches his hand reassuringly in theirs. “I’ll do better,” Sans says firmly. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up sometimes, but...I want to do right by you.” There’s a pause. “So, when people describe you, do you prefer beautiful, or handsome, or….?”  
Frisk blushes brightly and laughs.  
“Hahaha...oh man, yeah right! Hahah. But, um, no preference. Thanks for asking.”  
He coughs.  
“No prob.”


	12. I Know

She sleeps on his bed, petals strewn across his pillow. Frisk fell asleep in his arms after their conversation, and he stayed up most of the night staring at her. His memories of the prior timeline are indistinct, dreamlike, but he remembers her face, just at the end, with a perfect clarity. Digging her grave in the middle of that flower patch...visiting her resting place more and more often until he finally stopped leaving altogether. He had been undone with duty and regret, but now…  
She sighs in her sleep.   
Frisk could reset.   
He rests his hand along her cheek.   
Frisk could turn to genocide, become Chara again.   
Her arms tighten around him.   
She’s his best friend. Frisk wouldn’t do that. Never again.   
She refused to reset because of what he said. She never lifted a hand to anyone after that. Even when she went blind… she always ended a fight with an embrace, or ran away with a smile. She was keeping Chara at bay. Maybe this time.. They could be happy.  
She’s so beautiful. 

Sans disentangles himself from her embrace, sitting on the floor beside the bed. He drifts off to a light doze. He needs to be there when she wakes. 

____

“Knock knock.”   
“Who’s there?”   
“Flower.” Wait. Is that insensitive?  
“Flower who?”  
“Flower you doin, sweetheart? You all set in there?”   
Sweetheart. He really has to stop saying that.  
Frisk chuckles.  
“Yeah, I just… dunno where the door is, sorry.”  
A flashstep, and his hand is on her elbow, guiding her to the door...but she trips on one of the ketchup bottles from a previous drinking session, and he only just catches her.   
“Oops, my bad. I..I got it.” He lifts her, mostly with magic, and carries her gently down the stairs. Her face is so red. He hopes she doesn’t have a fever. Gently, he places her on the couch. “Paps will be home soon. I think he wanted to make you get well spaghetti. Boils the noodles in well water. Get it?” He chuckles and settles down beside her. “My bro is so cool. I can see...Why you like him so much.”   
Frisk frowns. She probably doesn’t want to talk about this, but Sans can’t stop the words from spilling out.   
“Ya know...He'd probably go out with you again, if you asked. He really cares about you.” It kills him, the thought of them together. But he wants them to be happy.

 

“W-why would I do that?” Frisk asks incredulously. “Then we'd have to go on another date! That would be terrible.” She laughs, as relief pours through him. She’s really serious. “Oh man. No. No way. Nope.” They chuckle again, just as Papyrus comes crashing through the door.  
“Speaking of…” Sans murmurs. His brother really has the worst timing.   
“HUMAN!!! IT IS I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HERE TO NURSE YOU BACK TO HEALTH!” Papyrus bustles into the kitchen, not bothering to change out of his uniform. “I WILL MAKE YOU DELIGHTFUL SPAGHETTI, AND GIVE YOU MANY BLANKETS, AND YOU CAN WATCH WHATEVER YOU WANT. AS LONG AS IT IS METTATON. I LOVE THAT GUY.” He begins banging around, cooking and singing off key at incredible volume.   
“Hey.” Sans touches Frisk’s shoulder to get her attention. “You can nap in my room if you’d rather. It’s...quieter.” He can feel a bright blush spreading over his face. He really just wants more time with her. Alone.   
Frisk winces at a particularly loud crash.   
“I don’t want to impose…” She bites her lip.   
Daringly, Sans takes her hand.   
“‘C’mon,” he says quietly. He tows Frisk upstairs, settling her on his bed. Her petals are still scattered everywhere. He sits on a beanbag across the room, but Frisk tilts her head in confusion, unsure of where he is.  
“Aren’t...you going to sit too?” she asks.   
“Uh, yeah.” She wants him to sit with her. He gets up and settles down awkwardly beside her. He’s never let anyone in his room before.   
“Sans?”   
“Yeah?”   
“Thanks. For everything.” Frisk lays her hand on the comforter between them, scant inches from his own. “I want...to do things right this time.”  
“Heh. You’re doing pretty great so far, kiddo.”   
They chuckle.   
“I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”   
He makes a strangled noise deep in his throat, coughs a little to cover it up.  
“I know.” Thank goodness she can’t see his face.  
“I, uh, did want to mention something…”   
“Yeah?” He can’t conceal the hope in his voice.  
“I thought I heard you say...um. How do I say this. I’m...nonbinary? I’m not...a girl, really. Or a boy. So I use...they pronouns. So..”   
“Oh man, I’m sorry. I never even thought-”   
Oh.   
“I didn’t mention it before I just-”   
“I feel like such a bonehead-” He was the worst. How many years had they been friends?  
“Noooo I just couldn’t think of a good way to bring it up and-” She-They- sound so stricken, so desperate to reassure him.   
“No, it’s important, and I’m glad you told me.” Sans takes their hand. “I’ll do better,” he says firmly. “I can’t promise I won’t mess up sometimes, but...I want to do right by you.” He would do anything for them. Respecting their identity is..well, it’s the bare-bones minimum. “So, when people describe you, do you prefer beautiful, or handsome, or….?”   
Frisk blushes brightly and laughs. But...they don’t let go of his hand.  
“Hahaha...oh man, yeah right! Hahah. But, um, no preference. Thanks for asking.”   
He coughs.   
“No prob.” He stares down at their hands.   
“Frisk…”   
“Hmm?” They turn their head toward him, questioning.   
“Uh. S’nothing, nevermind.”   
Their head tilts, confused.   
“Okay..” they bite their lip. That’s really not fair. “Sans? Are you...okay? You sound...I don’t know. Different.”   
He’s having a really hard time keeping it together. Frisk is in his room. Frisk fell asleep in his arms.   
“Uh. How do you mean?”   
Their hand tightens on his.   
“You’re really...sweet? But awkward. Did I ...do something wrong? You know you don’t have to take care of me...I don’t want to be a burden.”   
“No! Uh. I mean, no. Buddy. You’re not a burden. Not at all, not ever.” How could they ever think that? “I wanna be here for you. I know you can take care of yourself. I just...want you to know that you don’t have to. You’re not alone, Frisk.”   
They smile at him, and his heart feels light.   
“Do you...wanna lay down and...feel like garbage together? Just for a bit?”   
He could never feel like garbage around them.   
“Sure.” He starts to move to get up, to lay down on the floor as is traditional, but Frisk just lays down on the bed. After a moment’s hesitation, Sans lays down beside them. Immediately, Frisk curls up against him, head pillowed on his chest, sighing in contentment.   
He’s pretty sure they don’t do this with Napstablook.   
Pretty sure.  
He strokes their hair absently, and Frisk clings to him more tightly. Somehow, his free hand ended up in theirs, resting just over his heart.   
“BROTHER!! HUMAN!! WHERE ARE YOU?”  
Frisk sits bolt upright, still clutching Sans’ hand.   
Sans sits up more slowly, grateful that Frisk can’t see his scowl. Papyrus really does have the worst timing.


	13. Don't Fibula

Sans guides them to the little dining table, pushes in their chair. Gently, he takes Frisk’s right hand and guides it to different items.   
“Ok..water here, fork, napkin, and your plate. Uh. Paps loaded you up pretty good, so don’t feel like you gotta eat all of it or anything, ok?”   
Frisk smiles gratefully up at him. Adjusting to sightlessness has been difficult, and it’s sweet how considerate Sans is. They can hear him settling at the table next to them, and Papyrus sits a moment later.   
“HUMAN! I AM PLEASED YOU ARE JOINING US FOR DINNER! I THINK YOU WILL FIND THAT THIS MEAL WILL BLOW OFF YOUR SOCKS! WHICH IS SOMETHING I AM TOLD IS GREAT! LIKE ME.”   
Frisk smiles.   
“I really appreciate you doing this for me, Papyrus.”   
“IT IS MY PLEASURE! ANYTHING FOR MY VERY GOOD FRIEND.”   
Eating is slower going than it used to be, but Sans and Papyrus don’t seem to mind. Papyrus dominates the conversation, rattling on about his day. Eventually, he slows.   
“I SAW UNDYNE TODAY. SHE SAID...SHE SAID THAT YOU ARE EXTREMELY BRAVE, FRISK! AND SOME LESS FLATTERING THINGS ALSO. I WOULD LIKE TO TAKE YOU TO HANG OUT WITH HER SOMETIME. I THINK THAT WE WILL ALL BE BEST PALS!”   
Frisk nods.   
“I’d like that, Papyrus. I think we left things on an awkward note. It’d be nice to patch things up.”   
“Uh, are you sure that’s wise?” Sans asks. “She did kind of...impale you a bunch of times.”   
Frisk smiles, waving their hand dismissively.   
“Practically everybody tries to kill me at first, Sans,” they say. “It’s not really something I take personally anymore.”   
Papyrus laughs nervously.   
“I WOULD LIKE TO POINT OUT THAT MY GOAL WAS CAPTURE.”   
Frisk shrugs.   
“I’m really not upset about it, Papyrus. I understood your motivations, and everything worked out. I’m glad we’re friends.”   
“I AM ALSO GLAD THAT WE ARE FRIENDS! YOU ARE TRULY A GOOD AND WONDERFUL FRIEND. EVEN SANS LIKES YOU! AND SANS DOES NOT LIKE ANYTHING.”   
“Hey, that’s not true.”   
“WELL, BESIDES TERRIBLE JOKES AND OUTER SPACEY SCI FI STUFF.”   
“Sci fi stuff?” Frisk asks curiously.   
“Paps…” Sans’ tone is a warning, but Papyrus pays him no mind.   
“YES! HE NEVER TOLD YOU? SANS NEVER TELLS ANYBODY ANYTHING. YOU SHOULD ASK TO SEE HIS TELESCOPE SOMETIME! I...OH. I AM SORRY, HUMAN.”   
Frisk shakes their head sadly, taking a bite of spaghetti.   
“S’no big deal, Papyrus. We’re all getting used to it. Besides, maybe Alphys can fix me.”   
“OH!! YOU ARE GOING TO THE LAB?? HOW EXCITING!! YOU SHOULD STOP AT MTT RESORT WHILE YOU ARE IN HOTLAND! THAT IS WHERE METATTON IS!!”  
“Frisk needs to rest before we introduce them to the whole Underground, Paps.”   
“RIGHT...BUT METATTON! AND I HEARD THERE IS A NEW CLUB OPENING IN WATERFALL! VERY HIP, VERY EXCLUSIVE!!”   
“Oh really?”   
“YES!! BRATTY AND CATTY TOLD ME. THEY SAID… IT IS VERY SPOOKY. BUT IT IS IMPORTANT TO SUPPORT LOCAL BUSINESSES!”   
Frisk gently pushes their plate away, extremely full.   
“That sounds almost as wonderful as this meal was, Papyrus. Thank you so much for taking care of me.”   
Frisk can hear Papyrus getting up and rattling around the kitchen, cleaning up.   
“IT WAS MY PLEASURE! WE SHOULD DO THIS AGAIN VERY SOON, BUT WITHOUT THE HORRIBLE INJURIES!”   
Sans is at Frisk’s elbow again.   
“How ya feelin’? Wanna sit on the couch, or do you need to lay down?”   
“Let’s sit for a little while,” Frisk suggests. If they lay down now, they’ll almost certainly fall asleep.   
Sans tows them to the couch, and Frisk can hear the click of the television powering on. Mettaton can be heard explaining a recepie, and Papyrus runs into the room, rattling his bones in excitement.   
“METTATON! I LOVE THIS GUY!” He races upstairs, then returns with absurd speed. “BLANKETS! HUMAN, THESE BLANKETS WILL KEEP YOU WARM AND TOASTY.” He drops the pile on Frisk’s lap and settles down beside them, bookending Frisk between two skeletons. Sans sighs and rearranges the blankets over himself and Frisk, placing his arm around their shoulder. Frisk smiles and nuzzles into him, slouching down and resting their head on his chest. Several episodes pass in a comfortable silence, punctuated occasionally by Papyrus’ booming “NYEH HEH HEH!” whenever something amusing happens on screen.   
“And finally, my lovelies, some tidbits of news! The Underground is experiencing something of a boom in artistic output! Nothing compares to MY fabulousness, of course, but MTT Resort is increasing live shows to TWICE a week, and you can enjoy a fabulous steak or glamburger while you watch! Snowdrake just released a new spoken word comedy album, and our very own Napstablook is headlining as DJ for a sweet new club in Waterfall. I even have a leaked copy of one of his new songs and it is H-O-T HOT!! So here to play us out for the evening… GHOST FIGHT!!!” The robot claps enthusiastically as the first strains of a familiar song play.   
Frisk stiffens as a heavily remixed version of one of their jam sessions plays, and their phone begins ringing almost immediately.   
“Hello?”   
“F-frisk, I asked Mettaton if h-he thought our stuff was any good and he just played one of them on television and I swear he didn't ask me first and I’m so s-sorry….”  
Frisk sighs.   
“It’s okay, Blooky. I appreciate you telling me.”   
Sans takes Frisk’s free hand and squeezes it gently.   
“D-do you want me to tell him that we’re a...group? I dunno if you’re ready for the attention...I’m definitely not…Burgerpants lets me lock the door at the club so nobody will bother me in the booth…”  
Frisk chews their lip.  
“I’m not exactly thrilled? But I don’t want you to have to deal with this stress alone, Blooky. And besides...maybe it would be fun? I just need to make sure I don’t...have trouble onstage.”   
“Are you...feeling better?” The little ghost sounds so worried.   
“I’m fine. Sans and Papyrus are taking really good care of me. I’ll visit you soon to prove it, ok? Please don’t worry.”   
“O-okay…..” Napstablook doesn’t sound reassured, but they hang up anyway.   
“HUMAN.”   
“Yes?”  
“YOU. ARE YOU...THE MYSTERIOUS MUSICIAN??”   
“Um…” Frisk can feel Papyrus launch himself from the couch, dancing a little on the spot in excitement.  
“MY SECRET ADMIRER...IS YOU AND NAPSTABLOOK??”   
“Um...yes? Is that...okay?” Part of the point of that little gift was to encourage him. Knowing it was from a friend…  
“OKAY? OKAY??? IT’S FANTASTIC! IT MEANS...YOU WERE SO IN AWE OF MY GREATNESS...YOU FELT YOU HAD TO CONFESS ANONYMOUSLY!! AND YOU GAVE ME SUCH A NICE SHINY DISK!”   
“That was a cd, bro.”   
“SUCH A NICE CD! HUMAN! FRISK!!! TRULY YOU ARE...MY BESTIE!!!”   
Frisk is swept up abruptly in a crushing hug and spun around, then dropped on Sans’ lap.   
“I HAVE TO GO TELL UNDYNE!!!” Papyrus runs out of the house, rattling his bones in glee.   
“Uh.” Sans coughs awkwardly. “That was...that went better than expected.”   
Frisk scrambles off his lap, blushing furiously.   
“Sorry!”   
“Woah, woah, relax buddy. Tibia honest, that wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. Heh.” His voice is pitched low, teasing, but with a strange edge that Frisk doesn’t recognize. They sit stiffly on the couch beside him, heart jackhammering in their chest.   
“Hey, kiddo...what’s eatin’ ya? You’re jumpier than Doggo at a dance party. C’mon…” he pulls them into a hug, then stiffens. “Woah. Your heart...it’s going crazy. Are you okay?”   
No. No, they’re not okay. They keep embarrassing themselves in front of Sans. “You can tell me anything,” Sans continues reassuringly. He strokes their hair a little, and Frisk can’t help the little sigh that escapes them, or the way they press closer into his embrace. Sans shifts a little, rearranging the blankets again. “Relax. I got ya.” Bony fingers trace one cheek, and Frisk shivers. “Your face keeps going all red...why does it do that? Do you feel sick?”   
That’s definitely not the reason, but they’re not about to admit what’s bothering them to Sans. Frisk shakes their head.   
“Not sick, then...that’s good.” Frisk can feel him studying their face. “Maybe...you know, I blush kinda blue sometimes. And Paps...he blushes orange. Heh. There maybe...something you wanna tell me?”   
Frisk squeaks in horror and buries their face in their hands. Sans chuckles, a low rumble, and tightens his embrace.   
“You know, you can tell me anything,” he reminds them gently. “C’mon... don’t fibula...That's not your style.”   
Frisk swallows hard, cheeks burning, and mumbles something unintelligible into Sans’ chest.   
“Heh. Didn't quite catch that. Come again?”  
They were wrong before. This moment, THIS is the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened.   
“I said…” they swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry. “Um. I... I know I flirt a lot. But...It's different with you. Um. I…” they trail off, at a loss for how to explain their feelings. It didn't matter anyway. It wasn’t like Sans reciprocated. “Sorry.” Frisk tries to pull away, but Sans has a surprisingly firm grip. “I don't want to make things weird, I can go, I'm so sorry, I never should have said anything, it’s just a stupid crush and I’m stupid and …”  
“Heh.” Sans is still holding them tight. “Oh wow...Frisk…” his voice is strained. “Don’t you know what you do to me? I thought I was so obvious…” His free hand caresses their cheek. “Frisk. Sweetheart. You have to know... that you're the bonely one for me.”  
Their breath catches in their throat.   
“I...I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Can you repeat it for me?” Frisk asks softly. This can’t be happening.   
Sans chuckles. Suddenly, his mouth is at their ear, voice low.   
“Sweetheart. How could I possibly know you and not love you?”


	14. The Bonely One For Me

Frisk won’t stop acting weird, all tense and jumpy one minute, heartbreakingly tender the next. Their face is so red Sans wonders if it hurts, if something’s really, truly wrong..but then a thought occurs. Terrible, treacherous hope floods him.   
“Hey, kiddo...what’s eatin’ ya? You’re jumpier than Doggo at a dance party. C’mon…” he pulls them close, careful to avoid contact with his lap. That...didn’t go over so well a moment ago, when Papyrus dropped Frisk on his lap. Not that he minded.   
He very much didn’t mind.  
“Woah. Your heart...it’s going crazy. Are you okay? You can tell me anything,” Sans offers reassuringly. Their pulse is off the charts, almost audible. He can feel the thrum under their skin. He strokes Frisk’s hair, inhaling deeply. That smell is all over his room now, a delicate sweetness and salt. He rearranges the blankets on the couch nervously. “Relax. I got ya.” He strokes their face gently. “Your face keeps going all red...why does it do that? Do you feel sick?”   
Frisk shakes their head, the color deepening.  
“Not sick, then...that’s good.” He smiles. “Maybe...you know, I blush kinda blue sometimes.” He blushes all the time, around Frisk. Hell, he’s blushing now. “And Paps...he blushes orange. Heh. There maybe...something you wanna tell me?”   
Please, please, let there be something they want to say.   
Hope is a terrible thing.   
Frisk squeaks adorably, trying to hide their face.   
“You know, you can tell me anything,” he reminds them gently. “C’mon... don’t fibula...That's not your style.”   
Frisk murmurs something unintelligible into his chest.   
“Heh. Didn't quite catch that. Come again?”  
“I said…Um. I... I know I flirt a lot. But...It's different with you. Um. I…”   
This cannot possibly be happening. This has to be a dream. “Sorry.” Frisk tries to pull away, panicking. Words spill out of them in a rush. “I don't want to make things weird, I can go, I'm so sorry, I never should have said anything, it’s just a stupid crush and I’m stupid and …”  
“Heh. Oh wow...Frisk…Don’t you know what you do to me? I thought I was so obvious…” He’s loved them since the moment they stepped out of the ruins. Before then. He loved them even in other timelines, darker ones. Despite everything, he couldn’t help it. Why did they think he worked so hard to bring them back? “Frisk. Sweetheart. You have to know... that you're the bonely one for me.”   
Their breath hitches, and it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.  
“I...I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Can you repeat it for me?” Frisk asks softly. Sans smiles, draws closer than he’s ever dared.   
“Sweetheart. How could I possibly know you and not love you?”   
Frisk shivers, a wide grin breaking over their face like the sunrise. Sans presses a kiss to their cheek, but Frisk turns their head, catching his mouth in their own. They’re so sweet and earnest it hurts.  
Sans chuckles.  
“What?” Frisk is blushing. “Did I...do something wrong?”   
He shakes his head.   
“Nah, not at all. I just...can’t believe this is happening. I dunno how a bonehead like me got so lucky, you know?”   
They chuckle and stroke his cheek.   
“By being the cutest bag of bones in the whole Underground, I guess?” They kiss him again shyly, twining one hand in his. “Um. We should...go on a date sometime. If..you want.”   
Sans nods vigorously before remembering Frisk can’t see.   
“Uh, yeah! Yeah. I’d like that. That’s...That’d be great. We can go to Grillby’s, or the resturaunt at MTT Resort...”   
Frisk smiles at him, and his heart thumps in his chest.   
“Um. Can we do both? Like, one date, and then another date, and then after that we can think of another…”   
They’re so cute it hurts. Sans’ already broad grin is nearly ear to ear.   
“Sweetheart. Darlin’. Babe. We can do whatever you want, whenever you want.” He pulls them up onto his lap, snugly wrapping his arms around Frisk. They squeak again, squirming a little before slipping their arms around his shoulders. Frisk sighs softly, contented.   
“I don’t think...I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a long time,” Frisk whispers.  
“Heh. Me either. But...if this is what makes you happy, then settle in and get used to it. I’m not inclined to let you go anytime soon.” He strokes their hair, breathing deep.   
This is real.   
Frisk is really here, in his arms- not a dream or a sad daydream, but real life, something he never thought would happen.   
Frisk yawns, and Sans wonders if they really are magic, and they’re simply supernaturally adorable.   
“There are a lot of things we have to do,” Frisk says softly, “like go on a whole bunch of dates and...see the royal scientist, and visit Undyne, and go one more dates, and...and go through the Core and...see the King…” they swallow nervously, “but...for now...can we just...sleep? And pretend that none of that matters?”   
Sans presses a kiss to the top of their head.   
“Of course, sweetheart,” he agrees fondly. He’d keep them here in Snowdin forever if they wanted. Gently, he stands and lifts Frisk, carrying them to his room. His magic offsets the weight, blue light crackling harmlessly over them both. Frisk loops their arms tightly around his neck and smooches his jaw and neckbones with a kind of absentminded doggedness, planting kisses with no regard to placement and no evidence of planning to stop. 

He would give anything to make this night last forever. 

Sans sets Frisk gently on the bed; they immediately sprawl out comfortably, smiling up at him, arms extended toward him. Sans falls into their embrace with a sigh. His bed is cramped with two people, but Frisk doesn’t seem to care, pulling him as close as possible. Sans scoots to one side to avoid pinning Frisk- they seem genuinely tired, and he doesn’t want to move too quickly for them. Being so close to them...he inhales deeply, but only grows dizzier with the smell of Frisk’s strange personal odor, the weird, salty human smell overlaid with flowers. Tears prick up in his eyesockets and Sans buries his face in Frisk’s hair, overwhelmed with love and fear for them. They stroke his bones soothingly through his hoodie, pressing closer. Frisk’s hands linger on the gaps between bones, gentle and curious, and Sans chuckles a little into their hair. He shifts, shrugging awkwardly out of his hoodie and dropping it on the floor by the bed. He pulls Frisk back against him, their head pillowed on his chest.   
He always wears his hoodie. Even other monsters...well, they’re weird about skeletons. Nobody’s seen him in less in a long, long time. He shivers when he remembers that until they find a way to help Frisk, that’s still technically true...but their hand touches the smooth bone of his radius, soft and hesitant, and Sans loses all contact with reality.   
Frisk touches him for what feels like hours. Soft, delicate touches, mapping him out as best they can in a thousand trails of soft fingertips and softer kisses. Frisk whispers things, now and again, their voice soft with love and awe. He can feel their warmth against him, their breathing slowing as they slip into sleep even as they continue to pet him. He had worried that Frisk would find him repugnant, would hate the feeling of dry bones or the magic that bound him together and filled out his form...but they kept whispering such sweet things. He tilts his head and stares at Frisk, their face serene in sleep against his chest. His hand rests against their cheek, strokes the soft skin wonderingly. Sans watches them for a long time before finally falling asleep.


End file.
